Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brian
by Kona Linda
Summary: How Teresa saw the arrival of Murdoch's two sons and how she accepted them into her life.
1. Chapter 1

High Riders has always been one of my favorite episodes. And we have seen it through most everyone's eyes – except Teresa's.

I hope you enjoy.

Linda(Kona)

Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Thanks to my betas for all their help. I have since tinkered, so all remaining mistakes are of my own making.

No warnings.

FB is always welcome – good or bad.

Chapter One

Teresa O'Brien waited impatiently for the arrival of the westbound stage. It wasn't fair. Not fair at all. Murdoch had asked her to meet the stage here, in Morro Coyo, and escort his estranged son to the ranch. Her resentment and anger grew the more she thought about it. He could have sent Cipriano, the new segundo, anyone but her. But how could she say no? Murdoch was a bundle of nerves, snapping at everyone, pacing the floor, the tapping of his cane driving everyone crazy. By the time she returned, she half-expected to find a rut the size of a wagon wheel in the carpeting. Still it shouldn't have been up to her to put on a happy face and act like she was so excited to finally meet Scott Lancer.

She didn't understand how Murdoch could be so excited. How he could turn a blind eye to all those years when Scott never answered his letters or acknowledged the Christmas and birthday gifts he'd sent every year? Now suddenly, out of nowhere, Scott was coming for a visit.

It couldn't have come at a worse time. With the land pirates taking out some of the smaller, weaker ranches in the valley and her own father killed just six months ago trying to protect Lancer. Murdoch was still recovering from a bullet, shot in the back the same night her father was killed.

Murdoch had enough problems without adding a Boston dandy to his worries.

Teresa knew all about Scott Lancer. Everything she needed to know anyway. She'd been dusting Murdoch's desk a few months ago when she found that he had forgotten to lock the bottom drawer of his desk. It had always been locked before. She'd seen him looking through a black leather-bound folder quickly stashing it away in the bottom drawer if he thought anyone was coming into the great room. It wasn't her fault that the drawer just seemed to slide open of its own accord.

She had sat at the desk reading the first half of the file. Teresa hadn't realized Murdoch had retained the Pinkertons to send him reports on Scott every six months, from the time he was only a year old. How much money had he spent over the years?

Scott went to the best schools in Boston, traveled abroad with his grandfather, Harlan Garrett. He didn't seem to want for anything. Teresa read enough to know there was little doubt that Scott Lancer would turn out to be a spoiled, egotistical eastern dandy.

Now he was coming to lay claim to his share of the ranch. He had no right. He was a complete stranger. Lancer was more her home than Scott Lancer's. She was born on Lancer, he wasn't. When her mother died, when she was two, her father moved them into the hacienda and Murdoch helped raise her. Then that terrible night, when her father was killed and no one knew if Murdoch would live or die, when she sat by his side day and night until she knew that he was going to live. He became her legal guardian not because she had cared for him when he was hurt, but because he loved her.

Murdoch was more a father to her than he could ever be to Scott Lancer.

Though it hadn't been put down on paper yet, it had always been understood that when Murdoch passed on, she would get his share of the ranch. And if Scott abandoned his rights by never showing up, and Johnny was dead as most thought, she would be sole heir to the Lancer Ranch. Already she had been preparing the house for herself. Over the past three years she had carefully picked the house staff she liked, who understood their place. Even Maria, who loved her like a daughter, knew just one word from Senorita O'Brien and Murdoch would fire her on the spot. Through hints, tears and temper tantrums, Teresa had forged her kingdom. And no one would take that away from her.

Now she was waiting for the man who could destroy her world. Well, that wouldn't happen. Scott Lancer had no idea what he was facing.

Climbing down from the wagon, she sought shelter from the noonday sun in the doorway of the stage depot. She thought back to that day in Murdoch's study and remembered growing tired of the listings of schools and academic honors Scott had earned. Instead she read the Pinkerton report on Murdoch's younger son, Johnny. It was three times as thick as Scott's. There were reports of Johnny as a young boy, his mother moving from town to town; always one step ahead of the Pinkertons. Then the report came that Johnny was using the last name of Madrid. What she read frightened her, yet intrigued her. He had become a gunslinger. A gun for hire. There was little chance that she would ever meet Johnny Madrid Lancer. He was most likely dead by now. But it would have been interesting, a lot more interesting than meeting Scott Lancer.

The sound of the stage rounding the last corner into town brought Teresa out of her reverie. Amid a cloud of choking dust, the coach came to a stop in front of the depot.

"Morro Coyo!" the driver yelled.

Teresa looked over at Raul and Ben and smiled. Raul was Cipriano's nephew, and Ben had worked for Murdoch for as long as she could remember and always accompanied her now that Murdoch couldn't get around like he used to. It wasn't safe for her to travel alone from the ranch into town, and on the way back she didn't think Scott Lancer would be much help if there was trouble.

She watched the stage door open and held her breath. Despite her anger, she was also curious to see what Scott Lancer looked like. Murdoch had met him once when he went to Boston to bring his son home. The boy was five and Murdoch said he favored his mother. Would he still resemble the picture of Catherine hanging in Murdoch's room?

Travis Yoke stepped out of the stage first, holding his hand out for his wife Florence. They had been in Denver to attend their son's wedding. Next came a Jesuit priest, most likely Father Domingo's replacement at the mission. Then a cowboy – no a vaquero - jumped down, lithe as a cat. Dressed in a charro jacket and salmon colored shirt, her heart skipped a beat when the sun glinted off the row of silver conchos lining the outside seam of his leather pants. He was young, handsome and oh so dangerous looking. He was definitely not the type of man Murdoch would ever let her see. Her best friend Anna May would be so envious to know that she had spotted him first. Murdoch would have a fit if he knew the kind of thoughts that went through her head sometimes. But she was nearly seventeen, almost a woman.

She watched him catch a pistol the driver threw down from the front seat and easily slip it into his holster. It added to his look of danger and she had to turn away before he caught her staring at him.

Teresa almost forgot why she was here until the last man stepped off the stage. Blond, tall and dressed in a gray three-piece suit, he'd looked like he just stepped out of the pages of Goody's Magazine. He couldn't have looked any more out of place in his frilly collar and cuffs and the burgundy bowtie that matched the color of his lapels. Even the trim on the bowler hat matched.

She heard Raul and Ben snicker behind her. She almost snickered herself, but she needed to greet Scott in the way that Murdoch would expect. No doubt Scott would tell his father if he wasn't treated like royalty.

Teresa sighed deeply and walked toward the stage. "Mr. Lancer?" she asked sweetly.

To her utter surprise, the man she had guessed was Scott and the vaquero both answered at the same time.

"That's me," the blond answered.

"Yeah…" the vaquero said.

"I'm sorry," she said, "which one of you said…?"

"I did…" both men answered at the same time.

No, it couldn't be. Teresa looked from the Scott to the vaquero. Could it be Johnny? He didn't look like Murdoch. But neither did Scott. He had the dark complexion of a Mexican, yet when he looked at her she saw the most startling blue eyes. Hadn't Murdoch once said that his Johnny had his mother's looks but the Lancer blue eyes?

"You're Johnny," she said, and then looked at Scott, "then you're Scott Lancer."

Johnny shoved the stage door shut, taking a few steps closer to Teresa, his shoulder nearly touching Scott's. She saw it for what it was. A move to assert his authority. Her heartbeat quickened.

"He's no Lancer. My mother only had one kid, and that was me."

"Likewise," Scott snapped.

What was she going to do now? Murdoch was practically in shock waiting for one son to arrive. What would he do when both his sons walked into his life at the same time?

"Oh, well…" What a stupid thing to say. "Oh well?" She had to get her composure back. "He didn't expect you both at the same time – but actually you're both right – it's Mr.

Lancer who had two." She wasn't making things any easier.

"Two what?" Scott asked.

"Wives - and - sons." She looked at each of them. They couldn't have looked more different. "You two."

Scott sat next to her on the buckboard. He had graciously offered to drive, but she had just as graciously declined. Johnny sat in the back on top of one of two trunks Scott had brought with him from Boston. Every time she glanced back, Johnny looked so relaxed. Scott sat with his foot propped up on the front of the wagon, but his lips pressed tightly together belied his attempt to look relaxed too.

"Tell me, Teresa, you work for my father?" Scott glanced back at Johnny. "Our father," he amended.

"I was born on Lancer. My father was the foreman here for fifteen years."

"Was?"

"He was murdered last November."

"Murdered by who?"

Teresa urged the horses to go a little faster. She really didn't want to have this conversation now…not until she knew a little more about them.

"I can't imagine how surprised Murdoch is going to be to see both of you at the same time," she said, loud enough for Johnny to hear also.

"No more surprised than I am at the moment," Scott said.

"Your grandfather never told you that you had a younger brother?" That seemed odd to Teresa, but right by the reaction she saw on Scott's face.

"No. No, he didn't. Possibly because Murdoch never felt it necessary to tell him. Perhaps if there had been some correspondence from my – father – I would have known."

Teresa's heart skipped a beat. What about all those letters and gifts? Had he not received any of them? It wasn't her place to ask. Not now at least. She needed to let things play out a bit first…bide her time.

"And you didn't know you had an older brother, Johnny?"

"Just me and my Mama," Johnny answered, a hardness in his voice that sent a shiver down Teresa's spine. "That's all there was, that's all we needed."

"Am I right in assuming that you have never met Murdoch either?" Scott asked, turning around to look at Johnny.

Johnny snorted derisively "Oh, I met him all right. Don't remember him. But I met him. I was born here. Then one day when I was about two, the old man decided he didn't want a Mexican wife or a half breed for a son and told her to hit the road…and just a minute, don't forget Buster here."

"That's not true, Johnny! My father said your mother just disappeared with you one morning." She didn't have the heart to tell him the whole story. That his mother had taken off with a gambler. That was for Murdoch to tell him.

"That's not the way I heard it."

"My father would have no reason to make up a story like that."

"Not saying he did. Just sometimes people get their stories wrong."

"Perhaps your…our… father can clear the confusion. Then you can go back and ask your mother…"

"Kind of hard when she's been dead for ten years."

Silence, except for the clop of horseshoes and the jangle of tack, descended over the buckboard. Perhaps her job was going to be easier than she thought. A few well placed words, a hint here and there, and she could have them at each other's throats before they knew what was happening.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Through The Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Two

Teresa kept the team at a steady trot, slowing down only when they reached the steepest part of the road. She pulled the wagon to a stop at the crest, overlooking the hacienda in the fertile valley below. She always stopped here. This was her own private piece of heaven, where she could look down upon the kingdom where she would soon reign as Queen. No greener pastures, no bluer skies. And someday it would all be hers.

"There it is," she said, "as far as the eye can see... the most beautiful place in the whole wide world... Lancer..."

She watched Scott looking down at the white adobe house. What was he thinking? Was he surprised, disappointed? What had he expected, coming from Boston? She wished she could see his face. Read his eyes. She prided herself on being able to see what lay hidden behind a person's expression, beyond what they wanted her to see.

She looked back at Johnny, her breath catching in her throat. She watched him as he stood up slowly, his face paling beneath his dark skin. He stared down at the hacienda, unblinking. His right hand sought his gun, and he leaned on it as if it could keep him on his feet. What did Lancer mean to him? Did he see it as his birthright? Scott had everything to pull him back to Boston, a grandfather, a mansion, friends and a social life. He would never find those here. But Johnny, what did Johnny have to go back to? She knew very little of a gunfighter's life. Only that it was a lonely way to live. The thought suddenly struck her that he looked like he was coming home.

Well, he had a big surprise coming if that was what he thought. She snapped the reins and the horses started down the winding road toward the house. Johnny nearly lost his balance and sat back down on the chest quickly. She felt the back of her neck warm. Had she just made an enemy? The thought both frightened her and excited her.

Teresa could feel the tension as she drove the wagon down the hill and beneath the Lancer arch. She had sent Ben ahead to warn Murdoch that both his sons were on their way. The smoother their first meeting went, the easier it would be for her to garner the trust of both brothers. Though, Johnny was an unknown, a dangerous unknown. She had spent so much time worrying about Scott, making plans for him. The thought of Johnny showing up never entered her mind.

The courtyard was filled with expectant faces, all waiting to see their Patron's eastern son. What would they say when they found out about Johnny Madrid?

Everyone except Murdoch was there to greet them. He would be in the Great Room waiting. That was his sanctuary. It had always been the place he would go to when he needed to think. It was the heart of Lancer, where decisions were made that could make or break a ranch. Today she knew he would be using his huge desk, sitting in front of the picture window overlooking the courtyard and the pastures beyond, as a crutch, just like the cane he needed to support his bad leg.

Scott climbed down from the wagon, adjusting his suit, pulling at the frilly cuffs and dusting the dirt off his clothes. He looked uncomfortable. Was it the hot wool suit he wore, or the people crowding around them, trying to get a better look, more than half speaking in excited Spanish? Was this what he was expecting? She felt sorry for him. She really did. This must be so hard. But it could have been much easier if he had just kept in touch with Murdoch. Then he would have known about the ranch, about its people.

Johnny jumped down, slowly looking around. Did anything look familiar to him? Could a boy of two retain memories for so many years? The excited voices sank to a diluted hum. Some of the older vaqueros and their wives seemed to instantly know who stood before them. Others appeared to be surprised and still others outright frightened. Teresa had never seen one man draw so many different emotions from a crowd.

Slowly, he pivoted on one heel, his eyes taking in everything, everyone.

Teresa tried to read his face. There was nothing there, just a hardness that again scared her and excited her. He was everything Murdoch would shield her from. But this was his own son. What would he do? What would she do? His spurs jangled as he started walking toward the front door. She hurriedly ran in front of him, blocking the door. This was her house; she was going to be the one to invite them in.

The interior of the house was a good fifteen degrees cooler than the outside. Six inch adobe walls and heavy drapes kept the rooms comfortable. In the evening, what heat there was in the house would rise and make sleeping difficult in the hottest months, but the really hot days of summer were still a few weeks off.

She closed the heavy door behind her and stood between the archway leading into the Great Room and her two visitors.

"Mr. Lancer is in here." She swept her arm toward the doorway. "I sent Ben ahead to warn him that you both arrived on the stage together. He's still not completely recovered from the gunshot wound to his back. But of course you know about that."

The look on both men's faces told her they did not. She might be able to forgive Johnny, but her letter to Scott after Murdoch was hurt went unanswered just like the letters his father had sent for years. Could it be possible that he never received those letters? The thought was forgotten when Scott spoke.

"Is he ambulatory?"

Teresa tried to smile, but inside she was seething. How dare Scott use his proper Boston schooling to make a fool of her? She had gone to school, sat through Mr. Bishop's boring classes year after year. She had read all the books in Murdoch's library that he deemed appropriate for a young lady to read. And also the ones he had forbidden her to read. Those she snuck off the shelves, careful to rearrange the other books so the missing tome would not draw his attention, and read clandestinely in her room.

Scott must have seen her reaction because he cleared his throat self consciously. "I'm sorry, Miss O'Brien, ambulatory means walking."

She dismissed the apology. "He's getting around with a cane, but he still tires easily. You best get in there before he comes out here looking for you."

Johnny's mouth twitched as if her warning amused him. Scott pulled on his frilly cuffs again and nodded to Johnny. "Shall we?"

Johnny shrugged and Scott stepped through the archway into the great room, Johnny one step behind him.

Teresa acted as if she was going to walk down the hallway but instead pressed her back against the wall and listened. She'd done this before. Learned so much more about what was happening around the ranch than anyone could have guessed. She'd even heard a lurid story or two when her father and Murdoch were reminiscing about old times. One was so bad that the next morning when she saw her father she blushed so badly that he thought she was feverish.

"Drink?" She heard Murdoch ask, his tone sharp and edgy.

This was not like Murdoch. She had heard him when the Cattle Growers Association gathered around the dining room table. Strong men who owned ranches, some almost as big as Lancer, some only a few hundred acres, but all used to the power that came with running a ranch. When drought or fire or high riders threatened their land, Murdoch was the steadying force that kept them together. His voice of reason never faltered.

But these two men, strangers in every way, seemed to have turned his world upside down.

"No, thank you." Scott's voice was distinctive with a hint of an accent. She hadn't noticed it before, but now that she concentrated on listening only to their voices she could hear it.

"You drink, don't you?" This time Murdoch sounded more confrontational.

"When I know the man I'm drinkin' with, yeah." The insolence in Johnny's voice made Teresa catch her breath.

Murdoch's next words surprised her. "You've got your mother's temper."

Teresa waited for a reply. Only silence and she was disappointed. Where were the raised voices, the confrontation she had expected? How she wanted to move just a few inches closer to the archway so she could peek in and see what was happening.

"You've got your mother's eyes."

She waited for Scott's reply and again there was only silence. It seemed to last forever. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the great room had never sounded so loud.

The silence was suddenly broken. "You got something to say Old Man…say it." Johnny's voice was deceptively soft, but the anger was there, just under the surface.

She heard the tapping of Murdoch's cane. Was he walking away from them, dismissing them? Could it be that easy?

"A thousand dollars apiece," Murdoch said. A thousand dollars apiece? He had bribed them to come? Was that the only reason Scott was here? It took a thousand dollars to bribe his own son to meet him face to face? And Johnny? What did a thousand dollars mean to him? She didn't know what a gunslinger made, but it surely was no where near that kind of money.

It was all she could stand to listen to. They had been bought and paid for. Of all the reasons Teresa had thought about, this was not one of them. They should not get an acre of land. Not a grain of sand, not a drop of water. They didn't deserve it. She would do whatever it took to keep them from stealing this ranch away from Murdoch…away from her. Teresa gathered her skirt and silently passed beneath the archway and opened the front door just enough to slip outside. She would use the back door into the kitchen and then head upstairs to her room. She had a lot to think about…a lot to plan.

Quickly changing from a dress to a pair of pants and a light green shirt, Teresa took a moment to look at herself in the full length mirror in the corner of her room. The pants were tight, accentuating her full hips and tiny waist. The shirt was tucked into the waistband, the top button left open to reveal just a little skin. She knew she was pretty. She saw that in the mirror. She also saw it in the eyes of the young men she met in town. Unfortunately, all the men working at the ranch saw her only as the Patron's daughter, even though they were not related. But what would Johnny and Scott think of her?

She went through the kitchen, hoping Maria would not notice her, and around the house. She stopped in front of the French doors. The drapes had been pulled to keep out the sun but there was enough space between the panels for her to see most of the Great Room.

Murdoch was sitting on the edge of his desk with Johnny standing between him and Scott who was sitting on the arm of the sofa. Johnny looked relaxed, his hand leaning against his gun again. Scott seemed relaxed too. Even Murdoch looked calm. How could that be? Didn't it bother Murdoch that his sons came here only for the money? It galled her, and she couldn't accept it. But for now she would watch and listen.

"The only law we got here is pack law," she heard Murdoch say, nodding toward Scott. "The big dog gets the meat. By summer, they'll own half this state."

If Murdoch got them to help him save the ranch then they would expect to share a part of it. But if they didn't help would there be a ranch left at all? Teresa knew she had to think long and hard about this. She needed them…for now. But she couldn't let them get too comfortable either.

"Big Dog got a name?" Johnny asked.

Murdoch nodded. "Pardee."

Johnny dipped his head and when he looked up there was a strange smile on his face. "Day, Day Pardee?"

"You know him?" Murdoch asked.

Of course he would know him. Johnny Madrid and Pardee were probably friends. How could Murdoch trust him?

"Oh yes, I know him. He's a gunfighter and he's pretty good." That smile again. "Yeah, I'd say you have some kind of trouble."

Teresa could only see Murdoch in profile. But it was enough for her to see the surprise, doubt and anger on his face. What was going through his mind? Did he regret sending the Pinkertons after his sons? He surely didn't get what he expected. A frilly Boston dandy and a gunslinger. What would their friends, their neighbors think about Murdoch's long lost sons? Could she even go to town with her head held high? Would Jimmy or Andrew or even Jake still try to court her? Or would they all be afraid?

"Just how many men does he have, this Pardee?" Scott asked.

"Twenty or twenty five."

Might as well have been fifty or a hundred the way they drove Ned Davis off his land. Teresa was just getting to know Seth Davis. He was the type of boy she could wrap around her little finger. She looked at Johnny and Scott. Could she do the same to these two men? She knew she could get Murdoch to do just about anything she wanted, but these two strangers? Which one would be easiest to control?

"That doesn't exactly put him in a class with Attila the Hun," Scott said.

Teresa clapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle. Would Johnny even know who Attila the Hun was?

"You have the floor," Murdoch said, and Teresa watched Scott walk over to the map of Lancer on the wall. He seemed so sure of himself. What did he know about fighting high riders? They had killed her father, nearly killed Murdoch.

"Well, it seems to me you have a very simple military problem here," Scott began. "One, find the enemy. Two, engage him. Three, destroy him."

Teresa looked at Scott in disbelief. The enemy already found them. The ranchers had fought back the best they could, and it was the high riders who were destroying the ranches, not the other way around. She looked past Scott to the bookshelves. The only thing he knew about fighting was what he read in a book.

She heard Johnny chuckle and saw Scott snap his head around to look at his…brother…? "Something funny?" he asked.

"He's saying it's not that kind of fight," Murdoch said, then looked toward Johnny. "But you could be wrong. I've got eighteen good men, only the best stayed. You two make twenty."

"Now wait just a minute." Johnny was on his feet now. "This is listenin' money. Now all of a sudden you're talkin' 'bout gun money. Well, let me tell you somethin', that's extra. That don't come on no lunch."

"I want more than your guns."

"What more?"

"I want your arms, and your legs, and your guts, if you got any."

Teresa's heart skipped a beat. Did Murdoch remember who he was talking to? She looked over at Scott. He stood silently, watching his newfound brother and father. What was he thinking right now? That maybe he should have stayed in Boston.

Murdoch stood up and Johnny had to look up at him, but he didn't seem intimidated by Murdoch's size. "All right, say I come up with all these arms, legs and guts you're talkin' about. What do you come up with?"

"One third," Murdoch said.

"One third," Johnny said suspiciously. "Of what?"

Murdoch walked behind his desk to the giant picture window and pulled the drapes open. "Everything you see out there."

Teresa's stomach plummeted. It was one thing to think about it, but to hear Murdoch actually say the words.

Scott looked past Murdoch's shoulders at the scene beyond the window.

"One hundred thousand acres, twenty thousand head of beef, the finest campagneros y palominos in the San Joaquin."

She couldn't take it any more. This was her house, her land. She wouldn't let anyone take it away from her. She would do everything and anything to keep what was rightfully hers. She would fight the way Anna May would fight.

Sweeping her hair away from her face and tying it in a knot to hang down her back, she opened one more button on her shirt, adjusting it so Johnny and Scott could see a glimpse of the soft mounds of her breasts, and opened the French door.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she gasped. "I didn't know you were still in here."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Through The Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Three

Teresa watched as three pairs of eyes suddenly turned her way. Scott jumped to his feet, his Boston manners apparently inbred. "Miss O'Brien," he said. She saw his eyes flicker from her opened shirt to her eyes. Anna May said men were men, no matter where they came from. Her best friend was a year older and a decade wiser then Teresa and told her things a young woman would never find in a book. If only Murdoch knew what they talked about when she spent the night at the Phelps house. He'd ban her from ever seeing Anna May again.

Johnny, on the other hand, seemed to have no manners. He made no pretense that he didn't see the soft mounds of her breasts peeking out of her shirt. She felt herself blush. He didn't seem at all bothered that Murdoch was standing right there. He just nodded, almost imperceptibly, before slowly raising his eyes to her face. "Teresa," he drawled softly.

It only took Murdoch two long strides to step in front of her, blocking Johnny and Scott's view. "We were discussing business," Murdoch said, his voice not hiding his displeasure. "Why don't you help Maria with dinner…after you change your clothes," he added.

"I was going to check out the new palomino. Frank said he was one of the nicest horses he's seen in a long time. I won't be long." She turned to leave but Murdoch's hand swung her back to face him.

"I don't want you anywhere near that horse until it's been broken. That may not be for some time. We have other things to worry about besides breaking horses. And Teresa..." Murdoch leaned down close to her ear. "If I see you in that outfit again I'll tan your britches, you understand me?"

Teresa heard a soft snicker and craned her neck around Murdoch's chest to see laugh lines appearing around Johnny's eyes. She felt her blush turn tomato red. He would pay for his insolence. She flung her head back, jutted her chest out and started walking toward the stairs when the fire bell suddenly started ringing outside. She spun back to look at Johnny and Scott who were both staring at Murdoch.

"Fire! Come on!" Murdoch yelled and flung both French doors open. Teresa fell into line behind Johnny and Scott. Horses were being hitched to the buckboard with men and women climbing into the bed carrying shovels and axes and empty sacks. Johnny and Scott helped Murdoch climb onto the wagon and Johnny reached down to swing her up beside him. Another wagon, loaded with barrels of water, was already pulling away from the courtyard.

She could see the plumes of smoke rising into the blue sky, the acrid smell of it beginning to reach the house. Scott's arm encircled her waist as the wagon lurched forward, the driver yelling at the team to pick up speed. It seemed to take forever to reach the fire. Men on horseback sped past them, yelling and shouting. Johnny and Scott jumped down from the wagon before it had come to a stop. They both grabbed shovels and axes and disappeared into the smoke. She jumped down and grabbed a sack, dunked it in a barrel of water and began slapping it against the flames. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her throat, and she was not even in the worst of it like the men were. As the wind shifted directions, she caught glimpses of Johnny, his jacket left behind somewhere, shoveling dirt onto the fire. Scott stood beside him, breaking the ground with an axe.

The fire seemed to take on a life of its own. It roared like a freight train, crackling and spitting out embers that started new fires.

"Let it go!" Murdoch yelled, pulling her close to him, watching as the fire marched up the hill. She could feel him trembling, not from the exhaustion alone, but from the loss of another field. "Let it burn up to the ridge."

"Isn't there something we can do?" she pleaded. This was her field too.

Murdoch squeezed her shoulder. "No, the field's gone, darling. It'll burn itself out by nightfall."

Everyone stood watching the flames as they climbed the hill leaving blackened earth and charred cornstalks in their wake. Tears, not just from the smoke, billowed in Teresa's eyes. This was her home, her future. She would not see it destroyed by a gang of outlaws. She would do everything she could to defeat Pardee.

"Take a good look at it!" Murdoch said looking from Johnny to Scott. "It's the third field that Pardee has destroyed. I told you, you would have to fight to hold onto this place. What do you say?"

There was a long pause. Teresa waited for an answer. Yes meant there was new hope that Lancer might have a chance to beat Pardee and his men. No could mean all her dreams would go up in smoke just like the field she watched being consumed by the fire.

"I've already given you my answer," Scott said, rolling down the shirt sleeves he had rolled up to fight the fire. There was no doubt what his answer had been. The set of his shoulders, the defiant look in his eyes told her that he was ready to fight.

"What about you, Boy?"

Johnny looked up at the fire nearing the crest of the hill. "I hate to see my property go up in flames."

"Our property," Scott amended.

No, Teresa thought. In the end, Lancer would belong to only one person: her.

As the wagon slowly pulled away from the burning hill, everyone huddled together in defeated silence. She prayed that Johnny and Scott's presence would be enough to turn the tide. Pardee was beginning to win, picking away at Lancer like a man felling a mighty oak. A cut here, a cut there, until the tree could no longer support itself.

Johnny and Scott were the strength Murdoch needed to fight Pardee. After Lancer was again secure, she would set father against son, brother against brother. She knew she didn't have the strength to fight Murdoch and his sons physically, but she would wage a war that none of them could win.

As the hacienda came into view, she felt a confidence she had not felt since her father was killed and Murdoch almost died. Her dream was again within her grasp.

The smells emanating from the kitchen reminded Teresa just how hungry she was. Maria had been planning Scott's first dinner since Murdoch got word that his son was coming for a visit. The son of the patron deserved only the best. She'd been beside herself when she learned that the man climbing down from the back of the buckboard earlier today was Murdoch's younger son, Johnny.

What must have gone through her mind when she saw her little nino, now grown and a dangerous gunslinger? Maria often spoke of the two-year-old Johnny, how he filled the hacienda with the kind of joy only a child could bring. Then the sadness that followed when his mother had taken him away.

Teresa knew she had to tread carefully. If she allowed Maria to get too close to Johnny she could have a formidable adversary. From what she and Murdoch had said, it was Maria who raised Johnny. His mother never had the time or inclination to take care of a baby. Those kinds of attachments ran deep.

Walking into the great room she found the dining table set. Maria had brought out the fine china and the crystal wine goblets. The silver candelabra sitting in the middle of the long table was buffed to a mirror finish. In keeping with tradition, the cook had set a place for the patron's sons to the right and left of his seat at the head of the table. At the other end was a lone service for her. Irritated with the implication that she was just Murdoch's ward, she picked up her setting and moved it next to the plate on the right.

She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, five minutes til six. Dinner was always promptly at six. It was one of Murdoch's ironclad rules. He had made a point of telling his sons not to be late.

Teresa heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and turned just in time to see Scott take the last step. He wore another three-piece suit, the white cuffs not quite as frilly as the ones he wore when she first saw him climb out of the stage. He was clean shaven, his hair still wet from his bath. There was nothing to suggest that just an hour ago they had returned from fighting the fire.

"Miss, O'Brien," he said, nodding politely. He was so different from the men she had known all her life. Her father and Murdoch, the ranch hands - even the boys she had gone to school with. None of them had the…polish…Scott had. She felt special when he looked at her, despite her dislike for him. Maybe someday, when Lancer was hers, and she wanted to travel, she would visit him in Boston or New York and see what life was like among the rich and influential.

"You're right on time," she said, feeling the moment deserved a proper curtsey. She had changed to a simple light blue dress that still flattered her figure, cinching in her tiny waist and defining her breasts. Murdoch could say nothing about it since she had worn it to the church dance just last month.

Scott smiled. "My grandfather's views on dinner are not dissimilar to Mr. Lancer's. Dinner was always at eight, not a minute before and not a minute after."

"Eight o'clock? That seems so late for dinner."

"In Boston we tend to retire much later than you do here…and…I'm sure, get up much later."

"Much later."

Teresa whirled around at the sound of Murdoch's voice. He closed the French doors behind him as he walked into the great room. "By the crack of dawn breakfast is over and the men have their assignments. It's no different for me, and it won't be any different for you and Johnny." Murdoch looked toward the picture window behind the huge mahogany desk. "I won't lie to you, Scott, ranching is a hard life. You'll spend long hours in the saddle. Some days you'll fry in the heat and others you'll freeze in the cold. But once it's in your blood, when the land means more to you than just dirt grass and trees…when you've put every ounce of sweat and blood into every acre…" Murdoch suddenly stopped. Teresa felt an uncomfortable silence descend over the room. She couldn't imagine how either of them felt: father and son… both strangers to each other. Would she feel the same way if her mother had not died, if she walked through the door one day after so many years?

The sound of the grandfather clock chimed six times and Murdoch cleared his throat looking around the room. "Where's Johnny? I told him dinner was at six sharp."

"I'm sure he'll be down when he realizes the time," Teresa jumped in. She needed to handle this just right. She didn't want Murdoch and his sons fighting each other already. They had to defeat Pardee first. But she didn't want them to feel too comfortable with each other either. What she needed was advice. She needed to talk to Anna May. She would have to find a reason to go into Morro Coyo tomorrow.

"There is no excuse," Murdoch growled. "I told him…"

"You told me what, Old Man?"

Everyone was startled as Johnny walked down the stairs. Like Scott, his hair was still damp from washing, but unlike his new found brother, he wore a faded white shirt that had seen better days and the same pants he had worn while fighting the fire. Teresa realized that he probably only had one change of shirt and socks in his saddlebags. The other thing she noticed was that he was wearing his gun.

"I told you dinner was served at six sharp," Murdoch snapped back. "And… you're in my house now, not a flea bitten room above some saloon. You won't need that gun."

Teresa caught her breath. She saw the look of surprise cross Scott's face. What did he know about Johnny?

Johnny snorted and dipped his head. "I'm not used to watching the clock. My belly told me it was time to eat. And this gun, well…it's just about the only thing that I trust in this life."

Murdoch stood silent, studying Johnny. Teresa waited for the explosion that never came. Instead Murdoch said, "I hope in time you will find that you can trust your family just as much as that gun."

Johnny shrugged and then looked back toward the kitchen. "I don't know about you, but that food smells good, and I ain't had nothing but hardtack and beans for a month of Sundays."

Teresa saw Murdoch's face pale. What did he know about Johnny that she didn't? Was there more than what she read in the Pinkerton report? "Then," Murdoch said, "I will tell Maria to start serving."

Teresa sat to the right of Scott, Johnny across from them, leaning over his plate, using his fingers to shovel food onto his fork. Emptying his plate once, he was on his second helping. He'd hardly said a word since they sat down at the table. Scott, on the other hand, used both his knife and fork and ate slowly while carrying on a conversation as he ate.

"My compliments to the chef," Scott said as he set his knife and fork down on his empty plate and sat back with a satisfied smile. "I didn't expect to find food like this here in the so called 'wild west'. The ham…I have never tasted it prepared better."

Teresa felt a blush of pride. Somehow, despite the fire and Johnny's unexpected arrival, Maria had outdone herself. All the dishes she had planned to cook for Scott were perfect, and in the short time she had, she had also prepared special dishes for Johnny.

"Your mother brought her cookbooks with her from Boston," Murdoch said, his voice catching, even after so many years. "Catherine of course intended to return as soon as the trouble here was settled, and you were old enough for the long trip…"

Was that a spark of anger Teresa saw in Scott's eyes? Why would he be mad if it was him who hadn't tried to keep in touch with his father? Whatever she thought she saw was gone as quickly as it came and Scott looked across the table at the dishes sitting in front of Johnny.

"If you would come up for air long enough," he grinned, "I'd like to know what kind of dishes you are eating there. I must confess, I have never seen anything quite like it. It smells very pungent."

"Pungent?" Johnny asked around a mouthfull of enchilada.

"He means spicy," Murdoch offered.

"Why didn't ya just say that? Don't they speak English in Boston?"

Scott squared his shoulders. "I assure you, Johnny, I speak excellent English."

"Yes," Murdoch quickly agreed. "But this is not Boston. A lot of people here don't have formal educations. In fact, many can't read or write."

Teresa saw Johnny put his fork down and glare at Murdoch. "You trying to ask if I can read and write, old man?"

"No. I was just trying to explain to Scott that…"

"I learned to read from a bible salesman when I was thirteen. We were both in the same cell. He taught me to read and write and do my sums. I guess I would a learned some of those big fancy words of Scott's if he didn't get himself hanged."

"Thirteen? You were in jail at thirteen?" Scott asked, his voice echoing his incomprehension.

"Wasn't the first…or the last," Johnny said. "But I don't have the law looking for me either. At least not on this side of the border."

Silence descended over the table. Murdoch looked sad, as if he were responsible for the things that happened to Johnny. He wasn't and Teresa resented the fact that he was made to feel that way.

"I heard some of the women talking," Teresa said, looking across at Johnny. "They said you brought more danger to Lancer than the high riders."

"Teresa!" Murdoch slammed his hand on the table nearly upsetting his wine glass.

"No, it's all right." Johnny smiled at her. "The little lady has a right to be scared."

"I'm not scared of anyone or anything," Teresa snapped.

"Yes you are. Because you've been hearing all kinds of stories about me since we rode in here this morning. Some might even be true."

Teresa felt her face blush with anger.

"But…" Johnny's smile disappeared and he looked around the table until his eyes came to rest on Murdoch. "I've never back shot a man. Never killed a woman or a baby. Good folk might not like what I do, but they like it when I do it for them. They pay me good money and can't wait for me to get out of their sight. I remind them of who they really are. But I got to tell ya, I've never been paid with a third of a ranch before."

"You think this ranch is gun money?" Murdoch growled.

"Isn't it? You need help getting rid of Pardee and his men so you hire yourself a gunslinger. The only difference between you and the other ranchers I've worked for is that I got your blood running through my veins."

"I've looked for you for years, long before Pardee came along. I paid the Pinkertons money I couldn't spare to keep searching. Every time I got close, you were gone. By the grace of God, they found you this time."

"You still want my gun!"

"Of course I do! I need your gun and Scott's. I need all the help I can get. If Pardee wins he's not just defeating me…he's defeating you and Scott."

Johnny stood up, his hand resting on his gun. "You and Scott can have it. I got my listening money and a free meal."

"Johnny…." Murdoch looked up, his face ashen.

"I need a horse and I'll pay a fair price for one. Then I'll be out of here."

"Johnny!" Teresa jumped to her feet. What had she done? She needed both Scott and Johnny to help fight Pardee. "Wait. Those women, they also said that Johnny Madrid was a hero in Mexico and they were glad you were here. They know if Pardee wins that they lose everything. They all need you. We need you."

"Teresa's right," Murdoch said. "We need both you and Scott. At the end, if you still don't want your share of the ranch I'll buy you out. No questions asked. But we have to beat Pardee first."

"Please, Johnny."

She saw the hesitation in Johnny's eyes. "All right," he finally said. "I'll stay, for now." Then a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Besides, how could I walk away from cooking like this?"

Teresa felt like she hadn't breathed for hours. She'd almost ruined everything. From now on she had to be careful of everything she said and did. She definitely needed Anna May's help. She had to have a plan. A way of making this all work for her.

"Shall we have dessert by the fire? Maria made empanadas just for you, Johnny."

She saw the look on Scott's face as he slowly stood up from the table. He looked so confused. Not only was his father a stranger to him, he also now had a brother who was surely unlike anyone else he had ever met.

She knew she had to be careful. She couldn't lose Scott while she was trying to keep Johnny. Oh, she did need Anna May.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Through The Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Four

Teresa found it hard to sleep. So many things were going through her head. The thought of the two strangers sleeping under her roof left her feeling ill at ease. Scott slept in the room next to hers, and Johnny across the hall from him. In the time it had taken Johnny and Scott to meet their father for the first time, Maria had Isabella and Lupe air out Johnny's old room and put clean sheets on the bed.

Johnny was the last person she had expected to see. She was sure she could handle Scott, keep him off center in a world he knew nothing about. It wouldn't take long for him to realize that this was not the life for him. But Johnny would not be so easy to manage.

Outside her bedroom window, a tree swayed gently in the warm breeze, catching the curtains and playing moon shadows across the ceiling.

It had been a night like this, not long before her father was killed that she found him sitting down by the corral, his back leaning against a post, the smell of the cheroot he smoked filling the air.

"Are you all right, Daddy?" she'd asked, sitting down beside him.

"I'm fine, Pumpkin. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Oh, that someday this could all be yours."

She remembered feeling her heart racing. "You mean Lancer?"

"Murdoch's sons will never return. Scott's made it clear that he wants nothing to do with Lancer or his father. And Johnny…" Teresa remembered the silence that seemed to fill the air around them. She didn't know then what she knew now…had not seen the Pinkerton report on Johnny Madrid.

"But you…you have been like a daughter to him. He's told me that you will never want for anything. Ever. That Lancer would be your home for as long as you wanted. I heard him today, talking to Will Connors about adding you to his will. Lancer will be your legacy some day."

Two weeks later, Daddy was dead. But not the dream he had seeded so deeply in her mind.

It would have been so much easier if Murdoch had not sent for Johnny and Scott - so much easier if they had not come. But she would not let that stop her. This ranch was hers. Her daddy told her so. The only thing she was not sure of was whether she would keep the name Lancer or change it to O'Brien's Ranch. Daddy would like that.

Sleep finally quieted her thoughts, and she slept soundly in the knowledge that she would eventually get what she wanted.

Teresa awoke later than usual. She hurriedly brushed her hair and tied it into a pony tail that hung down her back. She wore a pair of slacks and a light blue shirt, nothing as suggestive as the outfit she'd worn yesterday. She'd made the statement she wanted. No use getting Murdoch mad at her again.

Today she wanted to go into town to talk to Anna May. But she had to have a reason. She could wait a few days and meet her after church on Sunday, but what she had to talk about didn't seem right on the Sabbath.

As she walked past Scott's room she heard voices inside. Who could Scott be talking to? Johnny's door across the hall was still closed. And even though she might not be able to hear what he said, if it were Murdoch in Scott's room she would have recognized his voice.

She pressed her ear to the door, but she couldn't make out the words. She started to back away when she thought – this was her house. She had a right to know what was going on.

Forcing herself to smile, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Johnny sat on the edge of Scott's bed, his shirt unbuttoned. Her eyes were drawn to his bare chest, a mat of dark curly hair making a V toward his belt buckle. She'd seen men bare-chested before. Living on a ranch you were bound to see more than was seemly. But there was something exciting about seeing Johnny Madrid sitting on the edge of the bed nearly shirtless.

Scott was already dressed, sitting in a chair just about to pull on his second boot. He wore a strange sweater that encircled his neck like a priest's collar. It looked hot and uncomfortable.

"Good morning!" she said happily, hoping she was not blushing. But Scott didn't seem to appreciate her good humor. He rolled his eyes and dropped his boot to the floor.

"Doesn't anyone around here ever knock when they enter a room?" Scott looked and sounded exasperated. The snort she heard from Johnny told her that he must have barged in on Scott too.

"Oh, think of me like a sister," she said dismissively. But she would never think of them as brothers. Not when they stood between her and Lancer. Under different circumstances, maybe she could see herself falling for one of them: Scott with his eastern polish and blond good looks, and Johnny, dark and brooding and oh so dangerous.

"Hey, Cipriano's cut out two horses for you," she said. "He's waiting in the corral."

Johnny nodded at her. "Yeah, you tell him I'll be right down."

"Well hurry up," she said, picking up Scott's bowler hat from the bed post. "Mr. Lancer doesn't like his hands waiting for anyone. You know, we're going to have to buy you some new clothes for living around here."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Scott demanded, standing up with his hands on his hips.

"Well," Johnny stood up also, pointing at the plaid pants Scott was wearing. "If you're planning on stayin' in these parts, well, that just ain't the style."

"Of course I'm planning on staying!"

"Good." Teresa smiled. "I'll ask Mr. Lancer if I can take you into town this afternoon. We can find everything you need at Senor Baldemero's." She turned to Johnny. "What about you, Johnny? Do you need some new things too?"

Johnny lowered his head and snorted again. "When I need new clothes I don't need no little girl helping me pick them out."

She was no little girl. She had proven that yesterday. Teresa had seen the way Johnny looked at her. When the time was right, she would prove to everyone that she was a woman to be reckoned with.

"Neither do I," Scott said indignantly. "I can buy my own clothes, thank you."

"All right." Teresa backed out of the room, talking as she began to close the door. "I'll just ride into town with you. I can have lunch with a friend while you're busy." She hoped Johnny or Scott didn't notice that she had left the door slightly ajar, just enough so she could eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation.

She waited. There was only silence until she finally heard Johnny speak.

"Look, I tell ya…"

"Get it said, Brother."

"Just this. What I got in mind is pretty much of a one man deal."

"Now, you're going to make me feel left out of things if you're not careful."

"Better left out, than lying in a ditch…with ants crawlin' across your eyeballs…that don't photograph too well."

Teresa's heart thumped in her chest. Johnny's words sent a chill down her spine. She had just heard Johnny Madrid. Did Scott even know who he was actually talking to?

Alarmed, she heard the jingle of Johnny's spurs and quickly slipped into her own room and closed the door. Maybe she didn't have to worry about them getting too close. Maybe she had to worry about them killing each other before they could kill Pardee.

Murdoch had been reluctant to let her ride back into town so soon, but Teresa knew how to get what she wanted. Neither her father nor Murdoch realized how she'd schemed to get her way since she was just a little girl. They never knew how she worked them. Now her schemes were bigger and her goals higher. She wondered if Johnny and Scott would be as easy to control.

She also knew she had to wait sometimes to get what she wanted. This morning was no exception. But she really didn't mind the delay. She was enjoying herself too much. She was sitting on top of the corral fence with a dozen vaqueros around her watching Johnny break the palomino Cipriano had told her about.

The animal was magnificent…and so was the rider. No matter what the horse did to try to buck Johnny off, he stayed in the saddle. The vaqueros around her shouted his name, encouraging him to ride it out. Again and again the horse bucked and spun around trying to get the weight off his back.

Teresa smelled the unfamiliar cologne before she saw Scott standing beside her, his arms resting on the top rail of the fence.

"He's really something, isn't he?" she said, and she really meant it. No matter what Johnny Madrid was, he was a good horseman.

"The horse?" Scott asked.

"No. Johnny!"

"Oooh," Scott drew out the word in that condescending way of his.

"I'm sure you haven't seen many horses broken, but I have," she said haughtily, "and Johnny is an expert. See how he stays with him, letting the horse tire himself out? My Daddy always said a good horseman always has the patience to let the horse wear himself out. You don't need spurs or whips. Just patience."

Scott climbed onto the top rung and sat next to her. He wore a hat turned up on one side that would do nothing to shade his face from the sun. But it was the plaid pants and strange looking sweater that made him look so out of place.

She heard the vaqueros clapping and watched as the palomino began to settle down. Johnny rode it around the corral several times letting the horse get used to him in the saddle.

"I was right," Scott said, "that is a beautiful horse."

Teresa watched Scott. Was he admiring just the horse or did he appreciate the skill of the rider?

"I didn't think a man like Johnny Madrid would be so gentle with a horse," she said just loud enough for Scott to hear.

He looked at her. "Who's Johnny Madrid?"

She didn't answer. She'd let him think about it.

Johnny was slowly cooling the palomino down, finally pulling to a stop in front of her.

"Hey! Good, Johnny, you broke him!"

"That's a good animal," Johnny said as he lifted his leg over the palomino's neck and dropped to the ground, breathing hard from the exertion. "See that one over there?" he asked Scott as he handed the horse over to the waiting vaquero. "That one's yours, Boston."

Teresa didn't see any reaction from Scott to the sedate looking animal tied to the far corral.

"Yes, I saw it," Scott said. "I saw this one as well." Scott jumped down and snatched the hackamore from the vaquero, leading the horse away from the fence.

"Now what do you think you're doin'?" Johnny asked, his smile fading.

Scott didn't answer. Instead he mounted the horse.

"Hey, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Johnny warned.

Scott urged the palomino to pick up speed as it cantered around the corral. His posture was straight backed, and he didn't sit deep in the saddle like Johnny did, but he seemed to have full command of the horse. Suddenly he was heading toward the fence. Horse and rider cleared the fence easily as vaqueros scattered to get out of the way. Teresa looked down to see Johnny smiling. But this time it looked genuine. Was this the beginning of a bond between them? The first glimpse of what might be a friendship?

The palomino easily jumped the fence again and Scott brought him to a stop in front of Teresa and Johnny.

"You're right. He is a fine animal. And in answer to your question earlier, it was a cavalry unit I was in."

That last statement meant nothing to Teresa. But she had more things on her mind. She couldn't let these two men become friends.

"Well, I'll say one thing, Boston, you sure know how to ride. But that don't make you ready for Day Pardee. You're gonna end up with a bullet in your back."

"There's an awful lot of back shooting going on around here." Scott smiled, handing the palomino back to the vaquero. "What ever happened to the code of the West?"

"Well, you see, that's it." Johnny took his gun belt from a ranch hand. "You gotta do it to them before they do it to you."

A chill went down Teresa's spine. Madrid was speaking again.

Johnny nodded for one of the vaqueros to open the corral gate, and he led the palomino out and mounted. "See ya," he said, tipping his hat to Teresa.

"Where should I tell Mr. Lancer you're going?" She really wasn't concerned about Murdoch; she wanted to know for herself.

"Tell him I've gone to town to break up one a them gold pieces." He smiled and rode off.

She turned to look at Scott. "Mr. Lancer is not going to like this."

Scott shrugged. "There's not a lot Mr. Lancer likes, is there?"

Teresa held her tongue. It didn't matter what 'Mr. Lancer' thought. It was what she thought that was important. She started to walk away from the corral. "We'd better head into Morro Coyo," she called back over her shoulder. "I want to be there before noon."

They were halfway to Morro Coyo, Teresa dominating the conversation while Scott drove. She tried to be careful of what she said. It was a fine line between telling him enough about Lancer to make him want to fight for the land and not enough to encourage him to want to lay down roots.

Without warning he pulled the wagon to a stop. Teresa's heart suddenly jumped. It was Johnny she was not sure about. She'd never thought for a moment that she wouldn't be safe with a Boston gentleman. She looked around. Never had she felt so alone: Nothing but dry grass waving in the warm breeze, a lone hawk circling above them. They were still miles away from town and even farther from the hacienda.

"I'm tired of the small talk, Teresa," he said, an edge to his voice. "You have made it a point to mention the name Johnny Madrid three times in an obvious attempt to get my attention."

She almost gasped with relief. He didn't have designs on her. He was taking her bait. Daddy always said if you want the big fish you had to throw out the right bait and be patient. Eventually he would bite the hook.

"Well, now you have it. What does Johnny Madrid have to do with my brother?"

Teresa looked down at her lap, trying to hide her smirk. "It's not my place to say. Mr. Lancer wanted to tell you…in his own time. It's…complicated."

To her surprise, Scott shrugged and snapped the reins to start the horses moving again. "Very well," he said. "I'll ask Mr. Lancer this evening. I'm sorry. I never should have pressed you. I'm sure it's too complicated for a young woman like you to explain anyway."

Teresa felt the heat of anger brush her cheeks. What right did he have to dismiss her like that? She reached over and yanked at Scott's hand to stop him, the motion confusing the lead horse. It reared in its traces, threatening to bolt.

Scott settled the team down and then turned on her. "That was a stupid thing to do! You could have gotten us both killed."

"I'm not stupid and I know more than you ever will about this ranch. And for your information, Johnny goes by the name of Johnny Madrid. Ever hear about him back in Boston? He's a famous gunslinger, both here and in Mexico. How does it feel to know that your brother is a hired killer? That he makes his living by killing people for a price."

Scott stared at her, realization dawning on his face.

"Is that what Johnny meant when he said he'd never back shot a man or killed a woman or a baby?"

Her anger turned to panic when she realized she had said more than she intended to. She just wanted him to know enough to make him feel uncomfortable before he started liking his brother.

"I believe him, you know," she said hurriedly "About not shooting a man in the back or hurting women or children. Maria says there are stories about him helping poor villages fight the rurales."

"Rurales?"

"The law in Mexico. She says they are very bad men. I have heard stories, terrible stories."

"You condone what he does?"

Teresa had never thought that far. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "But I think you should talk to Mr. Lancer and Johnny before you make up your mind about Johnny Madrid."

"Oh, I intend to," he said, slapping the reins to start the horses traveling toward town again. "I intend to have a long talk with my father and brother."

Teresa folded her arms around herself and looked straight forward as the wagon began rolling again. She couldn't wait to get to town. She really needed Anna May's help.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Five

Scott didn't say another word, leaving Teresa to sit with her hands folded in her lap watching the scenery. When she chanced a look his way she saw him seemingly lost in thought. She had given him a lot to think about: Maybe too much. But he had made her mad and the words had just spilled out of her mouth. What did he know about gunfighters? If he knew anything at all, it was probably from the same kind of dime novels she had read, the ones Anna May kept hidden under her bed.

Those books were both exciting and frightening. Some gunfighters were cold and cruel, killing just for the sake of killing and getting paid for it. And some were like Robin Hood, helping the poor fight the rich. Which one was Johnny? The romantic part of her wanted to believe he was the Robin Hood of gunfighters. But another part of her wanted him to be the cold and cruel killer who would defeat Pardee and his men. It would be so much easier to turn Murdoch and Scott against him after Lancer was safe. Then she would only have to worry about Scott. She had no doubt that she could handle him with ease.

Teresa felt the wagon buck as they left the lesser used road on Lancer to the main road to Morro Coyo. Stage coaches and heavy wagons scarred the road with ruts and potholes. Scott seemed to know how to handle the team so she went back to her daydreaming.

Scott slowed the team to a walk, and Teresa suddenly realized they had made the last turn into town. As they drove past the saloon she noticed a group of men sitting on the boardwalk. One sat in a chair, balancing it on the back legs. She felt uncomfortable as they watched her pass by. She didn't recognize them, not unusual since she was only in town a couple times a month for shopping, and never paid attention to the saloon. But there was something unsettling about them. Maybe they were Pardee's men. She slid a little closer to Scott. If he noticed, he didn't let on.

"That horse," said Scott, nodding toward a palomino tied to the end of the hitching post in front of the saloon. "Isn't that the one Johnny was riding?"

It did look like the horse Johnny had broken that morning, the one Cipriano was so excited about. Was Johnny inside the saloon with more of those men? Were these the cold blooded gunslingers she had read about? Were they friends of Johnny's? The questions disturbed her. "I think so," she said hesitantly, "but…"

"Senorita Teresa!" a familiar voice called out and Teresa looked down the street to see Senor Baldemero standing in front of his general store waving toward them. "Por favor."

Scott continued to drive past the saloon. Teresa couldn't see his face, but she could see his back set even straighter. He pulled to a stop in front of the store and jumped down, meeting her on her side of the wagon before she could hop down herself. He grasped her around the waist, setting her down gently on the boardwalk. It wasn't uncommon for a man to help her down from the wagon, especially in town, but there was something in the way that Scott did it that that made her feel special even though he still seemed to be perturbed at her.

Senor Baldemero reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her toward him.

"It is good to see you - how is Senor Lancer?" he asked in Spanish. It was so natural for her to speak the language that she didn't even think that Scott couldn't understand a word that was said.

"He is fine, thank you, Senor Baldemero."

Teresa kissed Baldemero lightly on the cheek before nodding toward Scott. "This is the son of Senor Lancer. He needs new clothes... suitable for the ranch."

Baldemero looked surprised before he held out his hand to Scott. "Welcome to my store, Senor Lancer," he said in broken English. "I will see to all your needs."

"Thank you, Senor Baldemero." Scott smiled, accepting the storekeeper's hand. He looked so out of place standing there on the boardwalk that Teresa couldn't help but feel superior.

Teresa tapped Scott on the arm to get his attention. "I'll be at my friend's house. If you need me before I get back, you can ask anyone where Anna May lives…I'll be back in about an hour, that should give you enough time to find the clothes you need. Oh…" She turned to Senor Baldemero, "And Senor, could you find a better hat for him?"

"Yes Senorita," Baldemero laughed. "I will find him a much better hat. We cannot have the son of Senor Lancer getting sick with sunstroke."

Scott leaned over and whispered in her ear. "What did you just say to him?"

"Just told him to find you a new hat," she said smugly and walked away.

She could feel Scott's eyes on her and smiled. But other eyes were looking too and she took a quick look back toward the saloon. The man in the chair tipped his hat to her and she walked just a little faster.

"You said what?" Anna May Dixon practically yelled, pulling Teresa into the Dixons' parlor. She was half a head taller than Teresa with long blond hair framing her high cheekbones and full lips which were lightly touched with rouge. By her own account, she could make a man weak at the knees with just one look from her sultry green eyes.

She wore only the most fashionable dresses ordered from back east with ribbons and jewelry to match. Her mother worked at the millinery store to earn the extra money to keep Anna May looking like she just stepped out of Godey's Ladies Magazine. When the right man came through town, her mother had always promised, Anna May would be ready. Today she wore a light blue dress with a thin gold necklace Teresa knew was very expensive. Teresa's own calf length brown skirt and long sleeved white blouse made her feel dowdy as usual in Anna May's presence.

"You said what?" Anna May asked again.

"I told them to just think of me as their sister," Teresa answered. Sometimes she really disliked the way her friend talked down to her. But she had to admit, as she said it, how awful it sounded.

"You have two handsome men under your roof, their bedrooms on the same floor as yours and you tell them to think of you like a sister? Teresa O'Brien, where are your brains? Are they that bad looking?"

Teresa's stomach quivered at the thought of Johnny sitting on the edge of Scott's bed, his shirt undone. "No, no of course not. But I shouldn't think of them any other way."

"Why? Because Murdoch Lancer wants you to stay a cute little girl for the rest of your life?"

"No, because I need them to get rid of Pardee. If Pardee wins and takes over Lancer then where will I be?"

"Well, Scott Lancer is rich in his own right, isn't he? When he goes back to Boston, he could take you with him if you play your cards right. You could be the mistress of a grand mansion, with servants to wait on you hand and foot. No more collecting eggs at the break of dawn or making dough for those horrid biscuits you eat every morning."

It was true, Teresa thought, she did do all the chores a maid would do. When Lancer was hers, she would never have to lift a finger again.

"I don't want to go back east. Besides I think Scott is used to more…sophisticated…women. You should see him. He is all manners, uses words I've never heard before."

"But he's handsome, right?"

"Yes. But he looks so out of place. I left him at Senor Baldemero's store getting some new clothes."

"And what about the other one?"

"Johnny?"

"I overheard Mother and Father talking. They said there would be trouble if he stayed."

It seemed most everyone thought the same. But what could they do? Murdoch did invite him…and he seemed to be willing to help fight Pardee. But what was he doing over at the saloon? She tried to push the uncomfortable thought aside that maybe he was meeting Pardee. That he not only knew him, but was working with him.

"He's a gunslinger, you know," Teresa said offhandedly, as if it were every day that a gunfighter was the son of your guardian and lived under your roof. She felt a spark of pleasure when she saw Anna May's eyes widen.

"A gunslinger?"

"A famous one. Johnny Madrid."

Teresa saw something on Anna May's face she had never seen before. Envy.

"Oh my God…and you told him to think of you like a sister? What is he like? Is he handsome, does he have notches on his gun? Does he scare you when he looks at you? Or does he make you feel all tingly inside?"

For once the shoe was on the other foot. She knew something that Anna May didn't. Had something…no…someone Anna May wanted.

"He has his mother's Mexican complexion, but he has the most beautiful blue eyes. When he looks at you, he seems to look right through to your soul. I think he is very dangerous, but I don't feel frightened around him."

"What are you going to do?"

Teresa sighed heavily. "I don't know. You know what my Daddy said about Lancer. That Murdoch would always take care of me. But you know I want more than that. I want Lancer for myself." Anna May was the only person who knew of her secret dream. "But I'm not sure how to do it. I need Scott and Johnny to help fight Pardee. But I don't want them to feel like Lancer is theirs. I don't want them to feel like they are home."

Anna May leaned forward. "You have the perfect weapon to use against both of them. Yourself. Make them both want you. Let each of them think you are falling under their spell. Be subtle with Scott. He's already off balance; things must seem so different for him. Make him feel comfortable around you. Be a friend first, then a lover."

"I don't know…"

"Do you want Murdoch's sons to live happily ever after when Pardee is gone?"

"No."

"Then do what you have to do."

"And Johnny, how do I act around him?"

"You can't let him think of you as just Murdoch's ward. He's got to see you as a woman. He'll lose interest in you if you don't keep reminding him that you are a woman who can give him what he wants. If he likes horses, talk to him about horses. Ask him to teach you to shoot a gun."

"I already know how to…"

"Doesn't matter. Let him teach you. Make yourself part of his world."

"Anna May, he's a gunslinger!"

"You read the same books I did. Some of them are mean killers and others…"

"Robin Hoods."

"Yes. And you can be his Maid Marian."

Teresa thought about the way Johnny looked at her yesterday when she walked in with her shirt unbuttoned too low. He had smiled at her. Had liked what he saw.

"Do I have to…I mean, I've never been with a man."

Anna May took both her hands, squeezing tightly. "There is always that first time. And if it is worth the fight, then it is worth fighting with all the ammunition you have."

"I don't know if I can do it."

"If you want Lancer bad enough you'll do it. You can start right away, on your ride back to the ranch with Scott. Now get going, and let me know how it goes." Anna May stood up, wrapping her arms around Teresa. "Oh, this is so exciting. I can't wait to meet them."

Teresa hugged her back. "You will."

She pulled the ribbon from her hair and let it flow down her back. "I'll do what I have to. Lancer will be mine. No matter what it costs."

As the door closed behind her and she started walking back toward Baldemero's, Teresa knew what she had to do. This was a war and the only victor would be her.

Teresa was almost to the store when she saw Scott sailing through the doors to land face first in the street. Three of the men from the saloon followed him out and stood on the boardwalk laughing. Across the street Johnny sat in front of the saloon, just watching. Couldn't he see that Scott needed help? Maybe he was friends with Pardee. Maybe he was planning on taking Lancer for himself.

"Scott, are you all right?" She dropped to her knees next to him, trying to see how badly he was hurt. A bruise was beginning to form on his cheek and his lip was bleeding. She helped him struggle to his feet as the three men walked past, laughing as they made their way across the street to the saloon. Johnny didn't say a word as they passed him on their way inside.

"Let me help you to the buckboard," she began to say, but Scott pushed her aside.

"I came to buy some clothes" he said, pulling his shoulders back, "and some clothes I'll buy."

He stumbled up the three stairs to the boardwalk and disappeared back into Baldemero's. Teresa looked across the street. Johnny still sat there as if nothing had happened. Her anger flared. What kind of game was Johnny playing? His words from this morning echoed in her head… "What I got in mind is pretty much of a one man deal."

Maybe Johnny Madrid was not the Robin Hood she had envisioned.

She walked into the store just as Scott was paying for his purchases. He handed her a couple of packages wrapped in paper tied with a string and made a show of settling his new hat on his head. It did look nice on him. Now all he needed was some good California sun to tan his all too pale face.

Johnny and the palomino were gone when they left the store. Good riddance, she thought.

Teresa sat quietly beside Scott thinking about everything Anna May had said. She admitted to herself that she liked looking at men, even had a thought or two about what it would be like to do more than just kiss. Even Scott and Johnny. But the thought of going any further had not crossed her mind. Now, if she listened to her friend, she was going to have to give everything of herself to get what she wanted. Was she willing to make that kind of sacrifice?

As the road wound around a hill the creek she loved so much came into view. She loved this creek; it was just a part of the many things she loved about Lancer. But did she love the land like Murdoch did? No one could love the land like he did. What she truly loved was the thought of being able to say it was hers…that she owned Lancer. If she grew tired of it she could just sell it and move where ever she wanted to with more than enough money to fit the lifestyle she deserved.

She looked over at Scott. If she wanted any of her dreams to come true she would have to start now.

Teresa laid her hand on Scott's knee and squeezed it gently. "We should stop here," she suggested, nodding at the creek. "You don't want to show up at the hacienda looking like that."

Scott pulled the team to a stop and touched his lip with his finger arching an eyebrow at the smear of blood. "I guess you're right. Not a very good impression of my first time in town."

Teresa laughed and waited for Scott to come around to her side of the wagon and lift her down. She let her hands slide down his chest as he lowered her to the ground. His shoulders and chest were firm, but not rock hard with muscle like some of the boys she danced with. That came from long hours of hard work.

"I like your new hat," she said as she danced away from him, grabbing his hat lying on the wagon seat.

"Thanks," he said, pulling a handkerchief from the back pocket of his plaid pants. He began to touch it to the trickle of blood below his lip and she yanked it away from him.

"That won't do," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the steep slope toward the water. "Here…" She soaked the handkerchief in the water and wrung out the excess before gently dabbing at the blood on Scott's face. "That's better."

He didn't try to stop her, and she suddenly felt emboldened. Maybe Anna May was right.

"You were very brave with those men back in town. Do you think they were Pardee's men?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know the good guys from the bad guys here. They somehow all look the same."

"I guess people out here are a little rougher…"

"That's an understatement."

"But you knew how to handle yourself. You didn't run away."

"You think just because I was raised in Boston that I don't have a backbone?"

"No, no of course not. But it was three against one. That's not good odds no matter where you're from."

Scott smiled. "True." He took the handkerchief from her hand and dabbed at his bruised cheek before carefully folding it and slipping it back in his pocket. "Well, now, do I look presentable enough?"

"Yes." She smiled. "You look quite handsome, in fact."

The sound of a horse approaching made her whirl around. Johnny pulled up to the edge of the bank and looked down at Scott. "I told you to stay out of it, didn't I?"

Teresa took a step backwards, up the embankment.

"Well, you did, anyway." Scott answered coldly.

Teresa took a couple more steps up the embankment and Scott followed, never taking his eyes off Johnny. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want them to become friends, but she didn't want Johnny to get mad and ride away. It would ruin all her plans.

She reached the top as Johnny dismounted. "Well, if you wanna get yourself killed, that's your business." He left the palomino ground tied and walked up to Scott. Teresa backed farther up until she was standing next to the wagon. "That's, ah, quite a bruise you got."

It was the wrong thing to say, Teresa thought a split second before Scott swung and hit Johnny solidly on the cheek, sending him rolling down the embankment, stopping just inches from the water. But he deserved it. Sitting there watching Scott beaten by three thugs. Yes, he deserved it.

Scott slowly followed him halfway down the hill. "I couldn't resist thanking you for your help…Brother."

Johnny scrambled up the slope. "Don't you call me brother because we share that old man's blood!" He punched Scott hard in the stomach.

"Stop it!" Teresa screamed. There was no advantage in them killing each other. And what would happen if Johnny went for his gun? How much would he take before drawing and firing?

"You mean nothing to me!" Johnny growled.

Teresa saw Scott raise his arms, ready to punch Johnny again. She rushed between them, grabbing Scott's arm. "Stop it, stop it, you hear me! You ought to be ashamed-brothers fighting!"

With her heart beating in her throat she looked from one brother to the other. She held onto Scott's arm as if she alone could stop this. Her eyes drifted to the gunbelt around Johnny's waist, to the holster tied down to one of the conchos that lined the side of his black leather pants. The enormity of the moment hit her. She was standing in front of Johnny Madrid.

Scott must have felt her hand trembling because he slowly reached across his chest with his other hand and gently squeezed her arm.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said to Johnny.

Could it end this easily? Teresa watched Johnny, waiting for him to say he was sorry too. But he just stared at Scott. A minute seemed like an hour until Johnny stalked off, picking his hat off the ground as he headed for his horse.

"Now wait a minute," Scott called after him. "We ought to be able to get along…after all, we both came here for the same reason."

Johnny reached into his pocket and drew out a coin. "That's why I came," he said coldly.

"The money?"

Johnny shoved the coin back in his pocket and mounted his horse. "What else?"

"My mistake," Scott said sullenly.

"Why do you think I came?" Johnny asked, patting the palomino to calm him down. The horse could feel the tension in the air. "For loyalty or love for Murdoch Lancer? I told you what he said to my mother."

"And I told you it wasn't true," Teresa said. She hurried over to stand next to his horse. "He never made her leave. She left of her own free will."

"Now look, you don't know what you're…"

"She ran off with somebody!"

Johnny jerked the reins to move away from her, but Teresa held onto his leg.

"He was some kind of gambler or something. She just packed up and left with him. If anybody was done wrong, Johnny, well it was Murdoch Lancer!"

Did she see hesitation, confusion on his face?

"And there's something else you ought to know…"

"All right!" Johnny had had enough. But she couldn't lose him now. Everything hung in the balance. If he rode away, would he ever come back? And if he was undecided about Pardee…would this push him right into Pardee's hands?

"No, no, listen!" She held onto Johnny's leg. "When your father wasn't sure whether he'd live or die, I sat with him. And he kept saying your mother's name, Johnny, asking for her! So if you wanna hate him because he's stubborn, or wrong-headed lots of the times, or proud, well, they're faults. But don't hate him for your mother, Johnny, because he loved her!"

Johnny stared down at her silently. She saw Scott standing motionless, watching and listening. What did he think about this? About his own mother?

"Johnny…" she began, but her words were cut off by the shout of a rider across the knoll, his voice filled with terror. "Senor Murdoch! Senor Murdoch!" he yelled and disappeared over the rise.

Johnny swung the palomino around and galloped after him. Teresa ran back to the wagon and jumped in beside Scott. She held on as Scott snapped the reigns and the team took off in pursuit.

TBC****


	6. Chapter 6

Through The Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Six

Johnny and the palomino chased after the vaquero, dropping out of sight over the next knoll. Teresa held onto the buckboard as Scott raced after them, handling the team better than she had thought the easterner capable of. By the time they reached the top of the hill, Johnny had already reached Murdoch and the branding crew. Murdoch stood a head taller than the cowhands that circled him, the frenzied vaquero weeping on his shoulder, crying words Teresa couldn't understand over the rattle of the buckboard.

Scott pulled the buckboard to a sliding stop, almost sending Teresa flying off the seat.

Murdoch was still trying to calm the vaquero down. "What is it, man? What's the matter with you?"

Scott jumped from the wagon, leaving Teresa shaking from both terror and excitement. This is what she missed, stuck in the house cooking and cleaning: The thrill of her heart beating wildly in her chest, the fear of what might happen next.

"I ride…" the vaquero gasped, "I see smoke…at Gaspar's place." The rest of the men closed in tighter around Murdoch and the anguished vaquero. Johnny stayed in the saddle, looking in the direction the vaquero pointed. "I ride over there…what I see, Senor!" He threw himself against Murdoch, sobbing. Cipriano and another hand pulled him away, offering what comfort they could.

"Mount up!" Murdoch ordered, then turned to Cidro. "Cidro, come with me." The small Mexican had to hurry to keep up with his patron even though Murdoch's stiff leg made it hard to walk across the uneven ground.

"Murdoch! What's happened?" Teresa shouted as he reached the buckboard.

"I don't know," he growled. To her surprise, he picked her up around the waist and swung her off the wagon, pushing her into Cidro's arms. "Take her home. Post guards at the house. Make sure all the women and children are inside."

"Si, Senor."

Teresa saw the one last quick look Murdoch gave her as Scott jumped into the buckboard and they raced away. Was it worry or a warning? Both, most likely. She pulled out of Cidro's grasp. She was no shrinking violet, fainting at the first sight of blood. She could have handled it, no matter what it was, if only they would stop treating her like a child.

She was left to ride double with Cidro back to the hacienda, with a weeping vaquero riding slowly behind them.

Teresa could have cut the tension with a knife. Cidro's orders had the women and children seeking refuge inside the hacienda and armed guards stationed at the Lancer arch and atop the tower on the main house. It seemed a lot of work on the babblings of one old vaquero.

It had been almost an hour since she had been unceremoniously dumped into Cidro's care, and she had steadfastly refused to stay inside with the other women, cowering like a child. She would not soon forget the humiliation at the branding station, and she would let Murdoch know exactly how she felt the moment he got back.

Her patience was just about up when in the distance she saw a faint cloud of dust that grew as the men returned to the hacienda. Grim faced and silent, Johnny handed over the palomino's reins to old Pedro, who had tears in his eyes, before he followed Scott toward the house. Murdoch climbed out of the wagon, looking ten years older than he did just an hour ago. He stopped to talk to the men in hushed tones as if they were all attending a funeral.

Scott rushed passed her and pushed open the front door hard enough that it slammed against the inside wall. Johnny was close on his heels. She saw anger on Scott's face. What did she see on Johnny's? He was impossible to read at times…as if he had spent his life keeping his emotions hidden from the world.

Teresa hurried after them. She had every right to know what was going on. This would all be hers one day, and that gave her the right, no, the obligation to know what was happening and what they were planning. She rushed up the stairs just far enough behind that Johnny wouldn't hear her. Had he stopped for just a moment, as if he felt her behind him? It didn't matter. She had more at stake in this. She had lost her father because of Pardee. Almost lost Murdoch. She would not lose this ranch too!

As she followed them into Scott's room, Teresa saw him stripping off his shirt. He saw her too, but said nothing, just pulled a fresh shirt out of his dresser and put it on. Did Scott understand her need to be here, or was he just too mad at Pardee to care.

"Don't you think we oughta talk about this?" Johnny asked. He was standing with his hat in his hand, turning it slowly, that unreadable expression still on his face.

"We can talk on the way, while we're after them."

Johnny stopped turning the hat. "Did you ever think that's exactly what they want us to do?"

"The thought crossed my mind." Scott strapped his new gunbelt on, his movements not swift and sure like the men who wore one every day of their adult life. Not like Johnny would have. "But that trail could also lead us to their camp."

"Unless they double back through Morro Coyo…and hit the ranch house while we're miles away somewhere chasin' tracks." This time she saw anger. "What do you think those men will do if they find nothing but women and an old man here? You don't think they won't string Murdoch up by his heels to swing over the barn just like Gasper? And what about Teresa?"

Teresa gasped. What did this have to do with her?

"Every man there had his way with Gaspar's wife. Do you want that to happen to her?"

Teresa felt her knees weaken. She had just been over to the Gaspar's ranch three weeks ago to help Maria can peaches. Unshed tears stung her eyes.

"And your friend, Pardee – did he have his way with Gaspar's wife too?" Scott asked bitterly.

Johnny shook his head. "Day don't rape women. But that don't mean that he'd stop his men from doing what they wanted."

Teresa suddenly felt Scott's eyes on her, and she saw the pain of indecision on his face. This was not his kind of war. This was not Boston. Her right hand shook as she drew the collar of her blouse closed. She had never felt so vulnerable. This was her home, and even when her daddy was killed she had still felt safe. Now she wasn't so sure.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs had both men looking past her to the door. Murdoch hurried in, followed by Cipriano. He gave her a stern glance, making it known that he was not happy with her being there…but there were other things more important.

"The men are mounted and waiting," he said. "Scott, you said you wanted to talk to Cipriano."

Teresa took a step back, as if she could hide in plain sight. These were the kinds of conversations she was only privy to when she was listening behind closed doors. She had missed so much not seeing their faces, their eyes as they talked. Now she almost wished she wasn't there. But she fought back the fear. This was her place, her war too.

"Cipriano, you said their tracks led to the San Benitos Mountains. Do you know them well?"

Cipriano nodded. "Like my hand, Senor."

"Is there a pass up there?"

Cipriano nodded again. "A steep one. And narrow."

"Can you find it?"

"With my eyes shut, Senor."

"Good." Scott picked up his new hat and turned to Johnny. "Ready?"

Johnny didn't answer. Instead he turned to look at Murdoch. "Do you know what's gonna happen up there with a couple of cowhands and a tin soldier?" he demanded. "That sun'll be comin' down in about half an hour."

Murdoch said nothing…just stared.

"And…" Johnny turned back to Scott, "you're gonna be stumblin' around in the dark, blowin' each other's heads off."

Teresa felt her heart crawl up her chest to lodge in her throat as she watched Johnny waiting for an answer. The silence was almost painful in the room. She wanted Scott to stay. Johnny's words still echoed in her head. What if he was right?

Scott deliberately looked past Johnny to Murdoch. "You call the tune," he said. "What do you say?"

Another long silence before he nodded to Scott. "I say you go."

She saw the look of disgust on Johnny's face. And what else? Concern? Concern for who? Pardee, who might be caught by Scott and his men, or the people here at the hacienda who would be left unguarded?

Scott took command, a new authority to his voice. "Cipriano, tell the men we'll be right there."

"Si, Senor."

Then he looked at Johnny. "Coming?"

Johnny didn't answer. He bowed his head, standing motionless between his new father and new brother.

"Are you going?" Murdoch asked.

The silence in the room was pervasive. Teresa thought she would never be able to take another breath.

Scott didn't wait for an answer. He walked out of the room, the uncomfortable silence growing in his wake.

Johnny looked up slowly. "That an order?"

Teresa knew Murdoch was not a man to have his orders questioned. She feared if the wrong words were said, if Johnny had not made up his mind about Pardee, he could be forced into the wrong decision. She wanted to shout at them to stop: To take time to reason it out. But to them, she did not exist.

"There's only one man who runs this ranch…"

Johnny took a step closer to Murdoch. "Pardee is sucking you out into the open. He'll either cut your cowboys to shreds up in that pass or go for you in this house while nobody's here. Now you got one chance, fort up here and wait."

"For what?" Murdoch demanded.

"Till I find Pardee."

A look came over Murdoch's face that Teresa had never seen before. "Maybe you found him already."

"Well, go on," Johnny said softly.

"What were you doing in Morro Coyo?"

Did she see a fleeting look of disappointment on Johnny's face? "Is that what you think of me?" he asked.

Murdoch shook his head. "I don't know what to think of you."

The disappointment she had just witnessed disappeared, replaced by a mask of indifference. "Think what ya like."

Johnny started to move past Murdoch.

"Where are you going?" Murdoch's question was not a demand, more the words of a man who had just lost something very dear to him.

"I never was much good at takin' orders."

Teresa couldn't move. Had she just been witness to Murdoch losing his son again? After all these years of searching and waiting, would he next meet Johnny as an enemy? She slowly walked across the floor and wrapped her arms around Murdoch's arm. Sometimes words were painfully inadequate.

Teresa parted the closed drapes covering her bedroom window. All the drapes were closed to keep anyone who might have gotten past the guards from seeing inside or taking a shot through the window. The women and children who had taken refuge inside the hacienda were now safely waiting in the guest rooms for their men to return.

Johnny had left soon after Scott, not saying a word to Murdoch about where he was going. Teresa saw the hurt in Johnny's eyes that he couldn't conceal as he walked out of Scott's room. Maybe he really did want to be a part of this place. Maybe he was tired of a gunslinger's life. But that was not in her plans. Still she wanted him here for protection until Pardee was defeated. A shiver went down her spine as she saw a guard pacing slowly beneath the Lancer arch. What if Johnny was right and Scott was wrong? What those men had done to Maria she could not even begin to imagine. She only knew that she would rather die instantly than be defiled like that.

She changed her skirt and blouse to a simple dress that buttoned up to her throat. The plans she had made with Anna May seemed like weeks ago, even though it was just this afternoon. So many things had happened between then and now. But it was still a good plan and she would work on it as soon as Pardee was no longer a worry. If Johnny was on their side, like she thought – hoped – he was, then she would begin to divide and conquer as only a woman could.

Turning the wick down to a soft glow in the lamp by her bedside, she headed downstairs.

She opened the door leading into the great room and found Murdoch sitting in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. Shadows from the flames danced across the walls in the darkened room. The silver tankard that he had brought from Scotland rested on his lap. The last time she remembered seeing it was after he had recovered enough after being shot by Pardee to walk downstairs. He had once said that it reminded him of the good times in Scotland when life seemed so much easier and uncomplicated.

"Who's there?" he asked, turning around to see her.

"It's me," she called.

"I suppose it would do no good if I told you to go to bed?"

Teresa smiled. "I'll fix the fire," she said. It was comforting to stand next to the warm heat as she stoked the flames. "You're thinking about your sons out there, aren't you?"

She watched him, this man who had become a full fledged father to her in just a few short months. His dream of this land had now become hers, and for the first time she really knew what he fought so hard for it. She would fight too. It wouldn't be too long before he was too old to run the ranch…and it would be hers to control. But for now he could never know about her plans, for him or for his sons.

Murdoch looked into the flames. "They're strangers to me," he said, his voice sounding lost.

Teresa reached for a blanket and covered his legs. "It'll take a little time," she said. "But once they get to know you…"

"They'll stop hating me?"

"Oh, they don't hate you. They want to love you." Even as she said the words she knew how untrue they were. Johnny hated his father for what he perceived him to have done to him and his mother. And Scott…Scott seemed to be mad one minute and indifferent the next. But it was his own fault. He could have made contact with his father over the years. Johnny…Johnny didn't have that opportunity.

"I ought to get myself a dog," he sighed, then smiled. "They don't answer back."

She rested her head on his leg, the smell of his pipe tobacco and leather a reminder of better times when she would sit in this room and watch the fire as her father and Murdoch talked about the day or simply sat and sipped their drinks. It seemed so far off now.

"You miss your daddy, don't you?" he asked as he stroked her hair.

"Yes." Would the feeling of loss ever go away? Would there come a time when everything she saw or did didn't remind her of him? "But I've got you," she said. And it was true and it was good.

Murdoch gently brushed the back of his big hand across her cheek. "Yes, you have. You surely have."

The crackling of the fire and the warmth of Murdoch's hand on her shoulder drained some of the fear from her mind. She closed her eyes, thinking back on better times…and on times in the future when this would all be hers.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Seven

It was nearing dawn and the fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers before Teresa headed upstairs to try to get some rest. Murdoch had assured her that it would take Scott and the men most of the night to make their way back through Cipriano's pass. The trail was seldom used and dangerous, especially in the dark.

It was just as well, she thought. She had enjoyed the quiet time with Murdoch, sitting by the fire, feeling his hand stroking her hair. She missed being the center of his attention. Johnny and Scott had no right to push her out of his life. Well, they would soon find that she was not so easily pushed.

She lit the lamp and turned up the wick, chasing the deeper shadows from her room. Looking in the mirror she saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes. This ordeal had been difficult on everyone, especially her. Johnny's arrival had put a snag in her plans…but he would serve his purpose, if he wasn't on Pardee's side, that is. She'd heard the talk around the ranch and even in town yesterday. Johnny Madrid was no stranger to land wars. She'd read it in the Pinkerton file, but it had more impact after actually meeting him and seeing those cold blue eyes leveled at both Murdoch and Scott.

His admission that he knew Day Pardee left her feeling unsettled. What Pardee's men had done to Gaspar and Maria was horrific. The fact that Johnny knew the men behind it left her wondering if any of them were safe in his presence. And yet the dangerous part of him made her stomach quiver. She wished she could ask Anna May why she felt such conflicting emotions. Was it only yesterday that she had talked to her? Made plans that would have to be put on hold, for the time being?

She took her time washing up and brushing her hair before pulling it into a ponytail down her back. She selected a simple skirt and blouse with a neckline that was just low enough to remind any man that she had something to offer if she decided to share. She might have to put her plans on hold for awhile, but that didn't mean she couldn't season the plate a little. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she knew she was ultimately still in charge.

Teresa was waiting for Murdoch at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of hot coffee. He looked tired and worried in the soft light from the lamps. They were still a half an hour away from dawn.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Just what I need." Murdoch sipped at the hot brew and grimaced. "I'm too old to sleep in a chair all night, no matter how comfortable the chair is."

"I didn't have the heart to wake you. What would you like for breakfast? Eggs and…"

The sound of horses approaching drew their attention to the picture window behind Murdoch's desk. In the faint light of approaching dawn, Teresa saw Scott leading the men to a stop in the center of the courtyard. She rushed after Murdoch, trying to keep up with his long legs and not spill her coffee. He flung open the French doors, and she shivered in the cool morning air.

Even in the dim light the men and horses looked exhausted, but there was no sign of fatigue in Scott's voice as he turned his mount to face the men and started shouting orders. "All right! I want men on the roof!" He spun his horse around, pointing to the places he wanted guarded. "The front portico, and some in the back of the house. Cipriano, make sure the patio is covered. Put the rest of the men anywhere you think will do the most good." Scott looked back at the men. "Let's go!" he yelled. Cipriano began yelling his own orders.

Teresa was surprised by the authority in Scott's voice. He sounded like he had led men before. But where would a Boston bred greenhorn learn to take command like that? Perhaps there was more to this man than she had first thought.

Women who normally took care of the laundry and gardens were now part of the army fighting against Pardee. They appeared out of nowhere to lead the horses into the stable, offering the men jars of water and food wrapped in towels. Teresa felt proud of them, and herself. She had done a good job over the years picking only the best women, weeding out the ones who displeased her.

"What happened?" Murdoch demanded as Scott hurried into the great room carrying his rifle. There was nothing of the fancy Boston gentleman she'd seen step off the stagecoach two days ago. Blond stubble hardened his dignified looks, his usually perfectly combed hair now damp from sweat.

"Nothing," Scott said, setting the rifle on the dining table. "Yet…"

Teresa handed him her cup of coffee and he drank it gratefully.

"We rode just far enough to make them think we'd taken the bait," he continued, "then we cut back through Cipriano's pass. They should be along soon."

Murdoch nodded.

"It will be daylight in a few minutes," Scott added as the first rays of dawn chased the blackness of night away.

Murdoch turned to her. "Teresa, get my rifle."

Her heart beat just a little faster as she ran to the gun cabinet and drew out two rifles. She was as good as most men with a rifle, and everyone knew it. She grabbed extra ammunition and handed Murdoch his rifle and laid hers down next to Scott's on the table.

"Where's Johnny?" Scott asked, and Teresa saw Murdoch turn his back on Scott to look out the window.

"Gone," he answered flatly.

"Gone where?"

"What difference?" Murdoch didn't look back as he walked into the kitchen, the door closing loudly behind him.

Scott turned to Teresa. "What happened after I left?"

"Murdoch made it clear that he didn't trust Johnny. He wasn't sure what Johnny was doing in town yesterday. Maybe making plans with Day Pardee."

"He said that?" Scott looked surprised.

"Well, maybe not in those exact words. But I know Murdoch, and I know when he's worried." Teresa ran her fingers along the barrel of the rifle lying on the table. "You have your doubts too, don't you?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "I don't make snap judgments. I don't know enough about either Johnny or my father to offer an informed opinion."

"Johnny admits he knows Pardee, and he let Pardee's men beat you up yesterday. I don't know if I trust him." She lifted her hand from the rifle to her blouse, playing with the top button nervously. "I don't know if I'm safe around him."

Scott's eyes drifted to her cleavage, and she smiled inwardly. There were a lot of ways to win a war. "Do you think he's working for Pardee?" she pressed.

Silence hovered between them. The longer it took him to answer the more empowered she felt.

"No," he finally answered. "I saw the look on his face when we were fighting the fire in the field. And I saw his eyes when he saw what Pardee and his men had done to your neighbors. It made him as sick as it made the rest of us. No, I don't believe he's working with Pardee."

Teresa took a step closer, her arm touching Scott's. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. Knowing your half brother is a gunslinger – a hired killer. I wonder why your grandfather never warned you?"

"I've wondered the same thing myself. I plan on asking him when this is all over."

"You're going back to Boston?" She hoped her voice didn't reveal her surprise.

Scott looked down at her and smiled. "Do you want me to?"

Could it all be that easy? Had she been wrong about him wanting to own a piece of land he had no real connection to? After all, he had more than enough to keep him happy in Boston. But she couldn't look as if she was too anxious. "No, of course not. But I can understand if this is not the kind of life you want to lead." She looked out the window making sure Scott followed her glance as a guard paced slowly back and forth in front of the window.

"I am certain it is not like this all the time," he said.

"No, most of the time it is dull dirty work. I'm just afraid you will soon miss the people, the parties, the theater, all the things you are so used to."

"Yes. But San Francisco is not that far away. A week now and then in the big city…"

"I've been to San Francisco, but I'm sure it's not as wonderful as Boston."

Scott smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Are you trying to dissuade me from staying?"

Teresa tried to back up but Scott grabbed her arm. "Whatever your little game is, I'm not playing."

She pulled her arm free. "I only need to say one word to Murdoch and…"

"Teresa, don't over estimate your power here. You may be Murdoch's ward, but Johnny and I are his sons. Think about that before you do something you will regret."

If she had a six gun strapped to her leg like most of the men, Scott Lancer would be a dead man. She stepped back, struggling to compose herself. She was still in control, she reminded herself. Scott had no idea how easily she could manipulate Murdoch. She was the one who really controlled the reins here. She had thought Scott would be the easier of the two. Johnny was the dangerous one, while Scott was ever the gentleman. But it seemed he had a sharp edge to him.

She needed time to think. Walking across the room, she slowly pulled the drapes closed across the picture window. She had helped pick the color…more proof that this was her house and not Scott or Johnny's. Scott just stood there watching her. Maybe he needed a little demonstration of just how easily she could get Murdoch to do anything her heart desired.

Murdoch walked back into the room and took a seat in front of the fireplace. Scott bowed slightly to her and joined him. Anger flared her cheeks red. This was all a game to him. Well, if it was games he wanted to play, she would gladly join him, but they would be playing by her rules.

Taking a deep breath, she started walking toward the fireplace when a warning shot from outside froze her in her tracks.

Scott nearly barreled her over as he ran to the widow and dragged the heavy drapes open. Outside, men with rifles were running to get into position.

"Here they come," Scott yelled, yanking the French doors open.

In the distance, she could see a cloud of dust growing closer and the report of guns firing. Why were they wasting bullets so far away from the house? Maybe Pardee wasn't as dangerous as everyone thought. Maybe his success came from surprise and numbers. Lancer was ready for him, she and Murdoch had seen to that.

Teresa grabbed her rifle off the table and fell in line behind Murdoch. They ran up the outside steps. Scott climbed to the top landing and Murdoch stopped on the second. Teresa slipped past Murdoch to stand between them. The rifle in her hands felt heavy, not just the weight of the weapon, but the fact that she was about to use it on another human being. She's never taken a life before, not even an animal's.

Her heart was in her throat. The reality of what was about to happen turned her stomach upside down. Is this how Gaspar and Maria felt when Pardee's men swooped down on them? For the first time, she felt a little of the terror Maria must have experienced.

"Hold your fire!" Scott yelled. "They're still out of range."

They had two fences to jump before they reached the courtyard. Would that be enough to slow them down so the ranch hands could stop them? One rider was way out in front. Was he leading them or being chased?

"Here comes the first one," Scott yelled. Teresa looked above her to the first landing and saw Scott raise his rifle. There was no doubt he knew how to use it. Again she had underestimated him. Below her Murdoch had his rifle aimed on the rider. When Scott gave the word the man would be hit by a dozen bullets or more. Why was he taking such a chance? It made no sense.

Teresa raised her own rifle, aimed at the rider and began to squeeze the trigger.

The rider sailed over the first fence on a golden palomino.

"Wait!" Murdoch shouted. "It's Johnny!"

It was. Teresa recognized the leather pants with the conchos glinting in the sun. What was he doing? Surely, he didn't think they would allow him to lead Pardee and his men right into the courtyard. He sailed over the inner fence and even from this distance she could see the desperation in his face.

Suddenly, Johnny's arms flew up in the air and he fell to the ground hard.

"Johnny!" she screamed.

Pardee and his men jumped the outer fence and acacophony of gunfire erupted around them as the Lancer men began firing on the invading high riders. The acrid smell of gunsmoke bit at her throat, stung her eyes. But she couldn't take her eyes off Johnny lying motionless in the middle of the courtyard. As much as she didn't want him here, as much as she would do to make sure Lancer remained hers, she didn't want to see him killed.

Teresa reached Murdoch at the same moment Scott tried pushing past both of them.

"It's no use," Murdoch said, his voice filled with despair. "I don't understand what the boy was trying to do."

Teresa knew. She'd always known. Lancer was Johnny's home. He was fighting for it as much as he was fighting for the people who lived on it. She would have given him a good fight and won in the end. Now she would never have the chance, and she felt a loss that surprised her. "He was coming back to us!"

Scott yanked his arm free and ran down the stairs. A bullet hit the step Teresa was standing on and she fired into the middle of the approaching men, covering Scott and Murdoch as they ran for cover behind the archways supporting the patio. A vaquero, standing on the roof, screamed and she saw his body plummet to the ground. She didn't have time to see who it was. Racing down the stairs, she ducked down behind a barrel she used to plant herbs and began firing again.

More raiders jumped the inner fence, and she spotted Pardee on foot, leading the attack. Even with all the Lancer men, Teresa was suddenly afraid that they might lose, and she would be at their mercy like Maria had been.

Teresa reeled at the sight and the smells. She heard cries of pain from men on both sides. She wanted to close her eyes, to wake up in her own bed to find that this was just a terrible nightmare. A bullet sent wood dust into her eyes as it came too close.

She couldn't keep her eyes off Johnny lying motionless on the ground. One of Pardee's men raced across the yard and jumped over him. To Teresa's astonishment, Johnny suddenly raised his gun and shot the man in the back.

Johnny struggled to lever himself up on one elbow as he continued to shoot. He looked dazed, his movements slow, but he kept firing.

"Look at that!" Murdoch yelled from behind the archway. "Look at your brother!"

"Cover me!" Scott shouted and crouched low as he zigzagged across the yard toward Johnny. Scott and Raoul reached him and dragged him to the oak tree near the barn.

"Look out!" Johnny yelled, and Teresa saw what Johnny had seen. Day Pardee had his rifle pointed at Scott. Scott whirled around and fired. Day Pardee jerked as the bullet hit its mark, and he stared in disbelief before he fell to the ground.

"They got Pardee," one of his men yelled and the raiders retreated, not bothering to take their wounded with them.

Teresa ran over to Murdoch and they both stood watching Johnny and Scott. She threaded her arm around Murdoch's and felt his body trembling. She couldn't believe it was over. How close had they come to losing? And at what price? Men she knew lay dead in the courtyard, husbands and fathers to families she had grown up with.

Johnny still lay propped against the tree trunk, his gun lying next to him. She couldn't tell how badly he was hurt. The fall alone could have killed him. She watched and listened. The silence after the battle was almost painful, and she couldn't help but hear Johnny and Scott.

"That was good shootin'." Johnny looked up at Scott and Teresa wanted to get closer but Murdoch held onto her arm.

"Thanks, Brother. We'd almost given up on you."

Would Johnny ever know how much Murdoch had given up on him?

"Well," Johnny smiled, "you had your plan, and I had mine."

His plan had almost gotten him killed, Teresa thought as she watched him struggle to stand.

Scott's soft urging for him to take his time was ignored, but she could hear the groan of pain as Johnny reached his right arm out and held onto Scott's shoulder to steady himself.

"I can make it," Johnny insisted, though his words were as shaky as his legs as he started walking toward the house. Teresa watched Johnny take a few swaying steps and then

simply keel over Scott's waiting shoulder. Without missing a step, Scott carried Johnny toward them, arms and legs dangling like a rag doll's.

Teresa reached out and touched Johnny's arm as Scott hurried past her with Murdoch limping with the help of his cane behind his sons.

She looked out over the courtyard. Lancer had won this time. There would be more wars to come, different enemies, different causes. When the wounded were tended to and the dead buried, she would begin her fight again. She had fought as hard and as valiantly as any man here today because she had the most to gain. Lancer was hers. She turned to go inside the house, taking one last look at the carnage. Nothing was worth having if it wasn't worth fighting for.

She had just begun to fight.

The End (Part One)


	8. Chapter 8

Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brian

Chapter Eight

A week had passed since Day Pardee's attack, and life was getting back to normal - as normal as it could. The high riders bullets that gouged the hacienda's adobe walls still left constant reminders of that awful day. But buildings and fences would have to wait. Cattle had to be rounded up and streams had to be cleared of deadfall. Pardee's men had done more than just attack the house. They had attacked the land.

For the first time Teresa O'Brien realized what Murdoch used to know…that Lancer was worth more than anything, including friends, or even a son. But as she had watched him sit by Johnny's bedside, as if he thought he alone could keep death from claiming his son, she realized that he had lost that passion that had built Lancer.

To her dismay, Teresa had almost lost her own way when Johnny was so sick. All her plans, all her schemes seemed unimportant while he lay so close to death. The long days and nights fighting his fever, changing his bandages, forcing him to drink water laced with laudanum, had almost made her forget why he was there. Why Murdoch had called for him and Scott. They were here to fight side by side with Murdoch. To save what Murdoch had created out of a wilderness. What would belong to her someday. She couldn't let herself lose sight of that again.

Teresa looked around the kitchen and sighed. It was unfortunate that one of the men killed last week was Maria's nephew. That Murdoch had allowed her to escort her sister back home to Mexico. It meant that Maria would be gone at least a month, maybe more, just when she was needed most. It might not have been so bad if it was only Murdoch and her…but she had to cook for four now. Though Johnny was not allowed to eat solid food yet, she still had to make meals for Scott. And even though he thanked her at every meal, it didn't sit right with her that she had to do anything for him at all. He was still an intruder. An unwanted guest.

Yet it did keep Maria away from Johnny. Even that first night, when Johnny had shown up so unexpectedly, she had seen the look in Maria's eyes, as if her long lost niño had returned. Then when he was shot she had so easily fallen into the mother role, the one she had spoken of so often when Johnny's name came up. No, it was best this way. Maria was getting old and this was a big house to take care of. She would talk to Murdoch about finding a replacement for her.

She finished peeling the last potato and dropped it into the pot and set it on the stove to boil. The smell of the roast in the oven filled the kitchen and Teresa knew it would have drifted upstairs by now. Johnny was already complaining about the soft diet Sam ordered and, in a moment of weakness, she felt sorry for him. Poached eggs, milk toast and thin oatmeal were a far cry from the spicy foods he was accustomed to. She would add extra sugar and vanilla to the milk toast tonight.

The sound of the heavy front door opening and closing brought her to the kitchen doorway. Scott walked in. His new working clothes looked worn, his blond hair mussed and wet with sweat. He dropped his hat on the coffee table and turned around as if taking everything in. What did he think of the hacienda? It wasn't anything like his house in Boston. Anna May's mother had a friend in Boston. She didn't know Scott or his grandfather, but she knew Beacon Hill and every house there was a mansion. To Scott's credit, he never looked down his nose at the house or anyone in it, at least not on the outside. But everything was still new to him. When the daily grind of ranch work set in, would he feel the same way? Teresa had no intention of letting him find out.

Something on Murdoch's desk seemed to catch his attention, and he walked around to the huge leather chair and sat down. Murdoch's ledger sat in its customary place on the left side of the desk. Slowly, he drew the ledger closer to him and opened the book. How she wished Murdoch would walk in right now. If there was one thing Murdoch wouldn't tolerate, it was someone interfering with his bookkeeping. He called it the foundation of Lancer: His Bible. Without it, no matter how much sweat and blood went into the ranch, it would never be complete until the ledger balanced. Good or bad…it had to balance.

She watched him, the light from the setting sun streaming in through the window behind him and highlighting his blond hair. She didn't for a minute dismiss Murdoch's older son as a threat. Scott was just as much a threat to her as Johnny was, in some ways more. He was easing into the role of Murdoch's son right before her very eyes.

Even worse were the times he spent in the evenings talking with Murdoch about their favorite books or the politics Murdoch followed so closely in the newspapers. They seemed to have found something in common. And that could be very bad for her. Oh, she still heard the unease in Scott's voice at times, saw the wariness in Murdoch's eyes, but they were still making progress. She had to stop it, yet she had to be smart about it. Because when push came to shove, she was afraid blood would win out. And she hadn't forgotten Scott's warning.

Fluffing her hair and pinching her cheeks to bring the color into them, she walked into the room, feigning surprise. "I didn't hear you come in."

Scott looked up, his eyes adjusting from the numbers in the ledger to her. "I thought it was time that I put my expertise to work. I may not know much about ranch work, but I do know accounting."

She walked across the room and rested her hip on the corner of the desk closest to Scott. "I'm sure he would appreciate the help." She smiled. "I tried to help Murdoch with the books when he was bedridden after Pardee's bullet, but I'm afraid I made more of a mess than I helped. Luckily Sam...Dr. Jenkins… knows almost as much about numbers as he does medicine. He fixed everything up. I don't think Murdoch ever knew what I had almost done."

Scott chuckled. "One good thing about numbers, they can always be corrected...if they are caught in time." Scott tapped the ledger with his finger. "I hope Murdoch will allow me time with the books. I have a few ideas that might make things a little easier."

"Murdoch may be hardheaded at times, but he's not closed minded. You know, sometimes I think he's happiest when he's working here at his desk." She leaned her head over the desk, her hair brushing his ear. She was glad she had added that extra drop of lavender to the water this morning when she freshened up. It worked on Andy Thornton in town. But he was just a boy. Teresa wished she had some of the expensive perfume Anna May had. Scott was probably used to the fine toiletries the ladies wore in Boston. She would talk to her next time she got into town. "I just don't understand how he can sit hour after hour and enjoy it."

Scott smiled. "There is something comforting about working with numbers. I believe if I had remained in Boston, I would have undoubtedly joined my grandfather's firm."

'That, thought Teresa, is what you will be doing very soon. 'Happy with your numbers back in Boston.' She slipped off the desk, making sure her hip touched his hand. "I'm sure Murdoch would love to see some of your new ideas. Why don't you surprise him?" she suggested. "I have to see to Johnny's dinner."

"How is he feeling today?" There was real concern in his voice and Teresa scowled. She had allowed them too much time together. They were starting to bond.

"He's complaining about his food, so I guess that's a good sign. Sam said he'd be by this evening to check on him."

"Just as the dinner bell rings, no doubt," Scott chuckled, quickly holding up his hand. "No offense. My grandfather's physician often scheduled his visits around the dinnertime."

"I always have extras when I know he's coming." Teresa headed back into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "You better wash up, dinner will be in an hour." There was no answer, only the sound of another page being turned in the ledger.

Scott was definitely getting too comfortable here. She had smoked the peace pipe, as her daddy used to say, long enough. It was time to flame the fires.

Teresa balanced the tray on her hip and opened Johnny's door. He was propped up against a mound of pillows, his chest swathed in bandages and his left arm supported in a sling to keep him from pulling at the stitches in his shoulder. Gone was the deathly gray cast to his face, now he was just pale. Murdoch had shaved off the week's worth of beard earlier and now she could see just how much weight he had lost. But he staunchly refused to let his father cut his hair even though strands were falling over his eyebrows, almost into his eyes.

Sam had removed the bullet, but not before infection had set in, and now, though his fever was down, he was weak from both the infection and blood loss. It would take patience to recover. And as Sam always said, patience was the hardest part of convalescing.

"Feeling better?" she asked with a smile.

"I'd feel better if someone gave me my pants back," Johnny sulked. "How's a man supposed to get better if he's stuck in bed all the time?"

"Sam will be here in awhile; maybe he will let you sit up in a chair by the window for a few minutes. Meantime, here's your dinner." She set the tray across his lap.

"I don't want it if it's more of that gruel you call food. Where's Maria? I know she knows how to cook more than bread and water."

"Maria's gone. Her sister's boy, Roual, was killed in the raid. She's taking her back to Mexico to be with their family. I don't think she'll be becoming back." Teresa saw the flash of disappointment in Johnny's eyes. Was he really thinking that he had come home? That Maria would be there just like she was when he was two years old? She would never let that happen. "It will be strange here without her," she sighed as she fluffed his pillows. "She's been like a mother to me. I never thought she would leave for good. But it hasn't been easy for any of us lately. With Pardee and his men, then you and Scott…" She stood up, her hand gong to her mouth. "I didn't mean…"

Johnny picked at a loose stitch that covered the tray. Teresa couldn't help but stare. Those same fingers pulled the trigger on the gun that had killed so many men. Was it just another job to him? Like a hunter taking down a deer? Or did a little part of him feel the pain as a man died at his feet? She hoped he did. Why that seemed important to her she didn't know, except that she couldn't look at him and see the cold hearted killer she had read about. Even though she would go to any length to keep him from getting the ranch, she wanted him to be human.

"Does she know who I am?" he asked softly.

"Johnny Madrid? Yes, she knows." It wasn't for him to know that Maria didn't care about his past. That her heart was still open.

Johnny bowed his head. "Did she leave on my account?"

Where had Teresa heard the phrase "silence speaks louder than words?" She allowed the silence to settle around Johnny and she almost felt guilty. He was still so weak, his mind still clouded by the small doses of laudanum he took every few hours to keep the pain at bay.

She let the silence linger just long enough, then picked up the napkin and leaned over him to tuck it into the bandages wound around his chest. Her heart skipped a beat when the soft ringlets of hair twined around her fingertips. She looked down, she couldn't help herself. Her fingers were lost in the mass of soft brown curls. She felt her stomach quiver and snatched her hand back. But too late. He was looking up at her. She had been taking care of him for a week, had seen him wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off long johns. Yet he had never been looking at her with those deep blue eyes, not like he was looking at her now. A smile twitched at his lips and her sympathy turned to anger.

She spun away from the bed and walked across the room to look out the window. Cipriano was sitting on the top rung of the corral watching the palomino trot in a circle. Everyone knew the horse was Johnny's, that a special connection had been made between horse and rider.

"It looks like Barranca has made a new friend. Cipriano's taken a special interest in him. Runs him around the corral every night, won't let anyone else brush him down. You know Cipriano was the one who caught him." Teresa looked over her shoulder, satisfied to see Johnny grimace as he shifted against the pillows. She had planted the seed.

Turning back with a smile, she headed for the door. "Eat your dinner. Sam will be here soon."

"You can take this baby food back. I'm not hungry."

"Do you always complain this much? Your brother has been a complete gentleman. He hasn't complained at all. With you being sick and Maria gone, I haven't had much time to cook anything but steaks. Though today, I found time to make a roast with mashed potatoes, gravy and snap beans. And an apple pie for dessert. Scott likes my apple pie."

"I hope he chokes on it," Johnny barked, taking a taste of the milk toast before dropping the spoon back in the bowl.

Teresa smiled sweetly. "Eat all your dinner, Johnny, and someone will be up to take the tray. Remember, Sam will be here. I have to get my roast out of the oven. Smells delicious, doesn't it?"

As she left, she saw him looking down at the milk toast with disgust and then toward the window. He would lie there and think and worry about his precious palomino. She had found his weak spot. She had found a way to defeat Johnny Madrid. No guns, no violence, just his love for a horse.

Teresa was halfway down the stairs when she heard the knock at the front door. Sam was right on time. She heard the sound of Murdoch's heavy footsteps heading for the door. He must have come in while she was with Johnny. Hopefully, Scott was still at Murdoch's desk, putting his 'expertise' to work on the ledger. She really wanted to be there when her guardian saw Scott playing with his precious Bible.

But Scott was gone and the ledger was in the exact same place it was before he looked through it. She was almost to the entryway when she heard Murdoch's voice.

"Sam, you're right on time. Anna May, this is a surprise."

Anna May? Teresa nearly froze. Her hand went to her hair, and then ironed her plain brown skirt. She wasn't ready for guests, especially not Anna May.

"Thank you, Mr. Lancer. I hope I am not intruding. I talked Dr. Sam into bringing me out. After everything that has happened here, I thought Teresa could use some company."

Teresa snorted. Company, right! She just wants to meet Johnny and Scott. It was killing her to think that little miss frumpy Teresa O'Brien had an infamous gunfighter and a Boston gentleman staying under her roof. Teresa took a mental step backwards. Where had that thought come from? Anna May was her best friend.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Anna May." Murdoch sounded polite, but Teresa could hear the irritation in his voice. He never said he disliked Anna May. But he never said he liked her either. "I'm sure Teresa will enjoy the visit. She just took Johnny his supper. She'll be down in a minute."

"It must have been so dreadful for all of you. I was sorry to hear that your son was injured, Mr. Lancer. I hope my visit doesn't disturb him."

"No need to worry about Johnny," she heard Sam say. "It will be a few days before he's allowed out of bed."

Teresa decided she had better make her appearance. She could do nothing about how she looked. The thought spiraled down to her toes when she saw Anna May step into the great room. Her best friend was wearing a pale green and white stripped dress, cinched tight around the waist. The bodice was just high enough to be considered in good taste at a dance, not for an afternoon visit to a friend. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a soft chignon, with wisps of curls framing her face.

"Anna May," Teresa squealed as she wrapped her arms around her best friend, the scent of expensive perfume surrounding her. As mad as she wanted to be at her, she couldn't keep it. Anna May was her best friend and she needed her guidance. "I can't believe you're here. I was going to ask Murdoch to drive me into town in a few days so I could see you."

"Dr. Sam said he'd pick me up on his way back from rounds. That should give us a couple of hours to talk."

Teresa shook her head. "You'll stay the night. I insist. Sam can tell your parents that you are staying here. I'm sure they won't mind."

"Oh, they won't. In fact…I already told them that I would be staying the night. I brought some clothes and a few things for you too. They are in Dr. Sam's buggy."

Teresa saw Murdoch raise an eyebrow.

"I'll get them." Teresa spun around to see Scott standing by the desk. She felt more than heard Anna May gasp. With good reason. The man who stood before them was not the same man who stepped off the stage two weeks ago. Long days in the sun had already tanned his face and lightened his hair. His tan shirt, opened at the collar and tucked into the waistband of his brown pants, suited his figure, hinting at the muscles that were building in his arms and chest.

Scott walked over, kissing the back of Anna May's hand. Teresa was sure her friend was going to faint dead away.

"Mr. Lancer..." Was Anna May really tongue tied? It took everything Teresa had to keep from busting out laughing.

"Call me Scott."

Sam cleared his throat. "While you young people get acquainted, I'll check on my patient. How is he doing, Teresa?"

"Complaining about the food, about staying in bed…just about everything."

"Good. It means he's on the mend. But most likely not as mended as he thinks he is. I'll call you if I need your assistance."

Anna May wrapped her arm around Teresa's waist as Sam took his leave and Scott slipped by them, headed out the door. "My God…you didn't tell me he was that handsome and debonair."

Teresa grinned. At last, Anna May was the envious one. "Wait 'till you see Johnny."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Through the eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Nine

Teresa slipped out the kitchen door and into her garden, her sanctuary. She needed to escape Anna May, needed some time alone with the soft scent of her roses mingling with peppery ginger. She needed to be surrounded by what she'd created. Why couldn't things be the way they were? Why did Daddy have to die? She pulled a few needle-like leaves from her rosemary plants and, holding them to her nose, drew a deep fragrant breath. Daddy lover her chicken and rosemary .Why did Pardee have to visit their valley? Why did he have to take so much away from her? She meandered along the path toward the solid wooden bench, the bench Murdoch took pride in as he made it for his "princess." Why did Johnny and Scott have to come and interfere? And above all, why, why had Anna May decided to visit? The answer was obvious. She wanted to see Johnny and Scott. If only she'd waited for an invitation.

Dinner had an uncomfortable beginning. Even though the roast was done perfectly and the men heaped their plates with mashed potatoes and gravy, it was tainted by Anna May's shock that Teresa cooked and cleaned like a common servant. But that was short lived when Scott sat down beside her. It was a wonder to watch as she took dainty little bites, not enough to feed a hummingbird, asking Scott about Boston, adding the facts she knew from her mother's friend. It didn't pass Teresa's attention that Scott's Boston accent had gotten just a bit stronger as he talked about his home. And when the conversation veered too far east, Anna May would expertly bring it back around to her.

Why did it matter to her anyway? She had no feelings for Scott, never would. She only wanted him out of her home and on his way back to Boston where he belonged. Then why did she have that sting of jealousy in the pit of her stomach?

And why had she felt her face redden when Sam came downstairs ranting about Johnny. Was it guilt she felt, knowing it was her idea in Johnny's head that had lured him out of bed and over to the window? He was too weak to get up on his own and she thought he knew that. She only wanted him to lie there and wonder and worry. Never did she think he would be foolish enough to climb out of bed. Well, the damage was done. He ripped his stitches and put himself a week behind in his healing.

Was Anna May right? Were men that easy to manipulate? Was that what she was doing right now in the great room with Scott? Manipulating him? Winding him around her little finger like she did the boys in town? Teresa would be sorely disappointed if Scott turned out to be that easily charmed.

"Am I intruding?"

Teresa looked up, startled to see Scott standing before her holding a lantern, its wick turned down so just a soft wash of light brushed his face. There was no denying, he was handsome and her heart beat just a little faster.

"No," she said, hoping he hadn't noticed her surprise. "I was just getting a breath of fresh air after being in the hot kitchen."

Scott nodded toward the bench. "Mind if I sit?"

Teresa gathered her skirt closer to her and moved down the bench to allow him room. Always a gentleman, she thought, sitting far enough away that his knee didn't touch her dress.

"Where's Anna May? You didn't leave her alone with Murdoch?"

"No," he snorted. "I would never be that inconsiderate to my father."

Teresa should have been angry. Anna May was her best friend. But instead she had to turn her face to hide the smile.

"She excused herself and went to her room. I'm sure she's loosening those stays. The poor girl could barely breathe she was cinched up so tight. "

No matter what the style, Teresa would never harness herself into a corset like that.

"Dinner was delicious. Your roast was on par with some of the finest restaurants in Boston." He leaned his head toward her and smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much about Anna May. It's her loss, and the loss of whomever she snags for a husband, that she can't cook."

"I thought you liked her," she said petulantly and felt the color rise on her face. Thank goodness it was night and he couldn't see her face. What was wrong with her? She had no designs on him, never would. Her place was here at Lancer. But she couldn't push back that little knot of jealousy that rose up her throat.

"She's like the women I left behind in Boston. All fluff and air. Anna May carried on a fine conversation at dinner, but she didn't say anything of worth."

"But a good man, a refined gentleman, doesn't want a woman to speak her mind. He wants a woman he can be proud to show off at parties and balls. He wants to dress her in the finest clothes, buy her diamond necklaces and pearl earrings."

"Let me guess, Anna May told you that."

"And Godey's Magazine."

"Well then…"

"You are mocking me! Anna May's been my best friend forever. She knows about things that I will never know about."

"Does she know how to cook? No. Could she handle a rifle like you did when Pardee and his men attacked? I rather doubt it. Could she tend a wound without fainting at the sight of blood? Teresa, you are more of a woman than Anna May will ever be. I've watched you help Dr. Jenkins tend to Johnny. You have natural nursing skills. Have you ever thought about attending nursing school? You could…"

"You just want to get rid of me so you and Johnny can take over." It slipped out. But she had been so taken in by his warmth and sincerity until he gave himself away. Of course he would like her to go off to nursing school. Well, it would not be that easy to get rid of her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to spend the evening with my friend. All fluff and air is better than deceit."

She made to stand but Scott caught her arm. "Now wait just a minute. What do you mean by deceit? What have I done to you?" 

"You hurt Murdoch. All those years he sent you letters and presents on your birthday. He even went to Boston once to bring you back. But you didn't want to come. And you never answered any of his letters. It broke his heart when he never heard from you. Then as soon as he dangled a thousand dollars in your face you came running. And now you think just because his blood runs in your veins that you are entitled to a third of his land."

"I never saw those letters or presents. My grandfather must have hid them from me."

There was an echo of uncertainty in his voice. Who would she trust more? The man who raised her or a stranger who was a father in name only? She knew the truth, posted some of the letters herself. But could Scott be that sure? She filed the thought in her mind for later.

"Why? Why would he do a thing like that?"

"Because he loved me and was afraid to lose me." Was he certain of that? Or was he trying to convince himself? "He'd already lost a daughter to this land…to Murdoch Lancer. He wasn't about to lose his grandson. I think he thought he was doing what was best for me. I'm more sorry than you will ever know that my grandfather's actions hurt Murdoch. And they hurt me too. I thought my father didn't care about me, that his land was more important to him than a son. I waited for letters that never came. And I didn't know until just recently that Murdoch had come to see me. It was my fifth birthday and Grandfather had arranged a birthday party for me. I remember the big tall stranger who leaned down and held my hand, said he wished he had son like me. Then he was gone."

"You could have written."

"I did, a few times. When I never received an answer I stopped. A boy can handle only so much disappointment."

Was she supposed to feel sorry for him? Living in a fancy house, with everything he could ever want while Murdoch worked himself to an inch of his life to forget that his sons were not by his side. And all those years, since she could first remember, her daddy had said to take care of Murdoch because his sons couldn't or wouldn't.

Teresa slowly stood up and ironed her skirt with her hands. "And what was Johnny's excuse?"

She watched him ponder the question, his head turned up to her, the lantern light casting flickering shadows over his face. "Maybe he was too busy just staying alive."

Turning her back on him and starting down the path back to the house she muttered, "Maybe he shouldn't have worked so hard."

The old grandfather clock sitting in the corner chimed eight times as if it were chastising her for being so rude and leaving Ann May alone for over an hour.

Murdoch looked up from his desk. "Everything all right, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know." He stood up, stepping around to the front of the desk. "Even best friends can be difficult sometimes. Anna May went to her room to rest until you came back. I'm sure you both have plenty of things to discuss."

"I had no idea she was coming, Murdoch. I really didn't."

"I know. I could tell she caught you by surprise. But as much as she annoys me, it will be good for you to have someone to talk to tonight. In fact, since I know you will both be up late into the night, I will cook breakfast in the morning. I can still find my way around a frying pan."

"Oh, Murdoch!" She rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you for understanding."

"I understand that this has been rough on all of us, but you in particular. If I had known Johnny would arrive at the same time as Scott I would have had time to prepare you for my plans. But things happened so fast." He gently pulled her head in next to his chest, his hand combing through her hair. "Teresa, you know you will never want for anything. This is your home and it will be for as long as you wish to stay. Both Scott and Johnny understand that. I know you feel pushed aside at times, and I never wanted you to feel that way. In time, we will all settle down, become the family I have always dreamed of."

"I wish Pardee had never come into our lives."

"I know, I feel the same way, and other times I thank him because he was the catalyst that brought my sons home to me."

Teresa took a step back. "He killed Daddy!"

"I know, I know…" Murdoch tried to pull her back but she stood her ground. "Teresa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Your daddy was my best friend."

The hurt was there and no amount of words would stop it. "I'm going to see Anna May."

"You do that," he said, but there was sadness in his voice. "And try to forget, for just tonight."

Teresa nodded as she walked away. She wouldn't forget Murdoch's words, or what Johnny and Scott were trying to take away from her. Lancer was hers. Daddy paid for it with his life.

She tried to quell the anger that gripped her like a vice. She had trusted Murdoch, hoped that in time he would see that Johnny and Scott were only after Lancer, not a father, not a new family. She was all the family he needed. But Murdoch was weak. He let memories, hopes and dreams of a life with his sons distort the truth. Well, she was not going to let his delusions rob her of what she was entitled to.

It hadn't passed her notice that Murdoch had told Scott to take Anna May's valise to one of the guest rooms off the great room, as if he were afraid just her presence upstairs would bother Johnny.

She raised her hand to knock lightly, hoping Anna May was not asleep. The door opened and Teresa nearly yelped when Anna May grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the room, shutting the door behind them.

"I thought you'd never get here." Anna May laughed. Her hair was pulled back off her face with light pink combs, the same color as her satin robe. A white silk nightgown trimmed with lace dipped low enough to show her cleavage. What would Anna May say if she saw her in her white cotton nightgown, sleeves down to her wrists and buttoned up to her neck? It was the nightgown of a rancher's daughter, and now ward. But that would not last long. Soon she would be wearing a gown like Anna May's.

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long. It was inexcusable. I…"

"No, silly. It was perfect. It gave me time to talk to Scott alone. He is such a gentleman. I just know he never thought he would meet someone like me out here. I believe he will be calling on me soon for a Sunday afternoon picnic. But look at you. Did something else happen? Here I am going on about myself, and I'm supposed to be here for you."

"Murdoch said something that upset me."

"Oh come here." Anna May wrapped her arms around Teresa. No matter how annoying Anna May could be at times, she was still her friend and right now she needed a friend.

"Men can be so inconsiderate sometimes. But that is just how they are. Now come see what I've brought you."

"You didn't have to bring me anything."

"I know. But…" She handed Teresa a small wooden box, the lid etched with flowers.

"What is it?"

"Look inside."

Teresa hesitantly lifted the lid. A small bottle of perfume lay nestled on a bed of black velvet. She lifted the bottle and looked at Anna May. "I can't."

"Of course you can. I asked my mother to order mimosa for you because I don't wear that scent. A woman should have her own unique scent. Now whenever a man smells mimosa he will think of Teresa O'Brien."

"But it's too expensive."

"Nothing's too expensive for my best friend. Now open it."

Teresa hesitantly pulled the little stopper and the room filled with the soft fragrance.

"A little behind each ear," Anna May said, "and a little on each wrist. And a little behind each knee."

What?"

"Trust me."

Teresa drew up her skirt and touched the back of each knee with the perfume. She felt like she was floating in a mist of mimosa. It was nothing like the toilet water she used. Would Johnny or Scott notice?

And look what else I have." With an evil wink she drew out two small crystal goblets from her valise and a bottle of sherry. "Daddy buys it by the case. They won't notice one bottle missing."

Teresa watched her pour the amber liquor into the glasses and hand one to her.

"I thought we could just sit and talk. I'm dying to hear everything that's happened."

"I couldn't. Murdoch…"

"You just finished saying that Murdoch upset you. Why should you care what he'd say?"

Teresa took a sip. She only had one or two sips in her whole life…the last one at Christmas dinner. It tasted sweet and stung her throat, but she found herself liking it more with each sip. She sat down on the chair facing the bed where Anna May sat and suddenly began to cry.

"I don't know what to do. Everything has happened so fast. Tonight…tonight Murdoch said he was almost happy that Pardee had come. He'd brought his sons back to him. But he killed my daddy."

"I know," Anna May said, reaching her hand out for Teresa to sit beside her. "It's so unfair. I heard Mr. Lancer asking Dr. Sam when Johnny would be able to travel into town. He wants him and Scott to sign the papers for the ranch before they change their minds. How can he be so blind? This ranch belongs to you. Your father said so. It just isn't fair."

Teresa nodded; hardly aware that Anna May was filling her glass again.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't have much time left. Not enough to…" Teresa felt her face blush. "You know…your idea. But I have to do something."

"Well it will be awhile before Johnny is strong enough to ride into town."

Teresa shook her head. "Murdoch doesn't want to wait. He'll have Johnny in the back of a wagon the minute he's fit enough to stand. I just feel like everything is falling to pieces. I almost wish Pardee had burned Lancer to the ground, then Johnny and Scott would have nothing."

Anna May squeezed her shoulders and poured a little more sherry into Teresa's glass. "You don't really mean that. This is your ranch…and it will be all yours. I promise."

Teresa felt the room suddenly spin for a moment. She must be more tired than she thought. She leaned her head against Anna May's shoulder, hiccupping back a sob.

"Come on." Anna May pushed her back up. "I'll have none of that tonight. I'm here to take your mind off the bad things. What should we do?"

Teresa took another sip of sherry and sniffed back the tears. The dark feelings that had been weighing her down seemed to lift and she couldn't help letting out a giggle.

"This is good."

"I know." Anna May lifted the bottle and shook it. "And we've got lots more. Plenty of time for you to tell me all about Johnny."

"I did when I was in town."

Anna May shook her head. "That was before you got to know him. I mean really got to know him. You've been nursing him, haven't you?"

"Anna May!"

"Well, it's true." It seemed so funny to Teresa that she nearly doubled over laughing. It was contagious and soon Anna May was lying across the bed laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

When she sat up, the room spun and that made her laugh even more. "He's got the most beautiful eyes," Teresa began, closing her own eyes to picture Johnny lying in bed looking up at her, "blue with the darkest eyelashes you've ever seen. He can be so sweet …but he can be dangerous too."

"Ohhh…I want to meet him so badly."

"You know," Teresa whispered, rolling over on the bed to look at her friend. "He's got this little birthmark right above his hip…" Teresa raised her fingers, squinting through the tiny gap. "It looks like a little half moon."

Anna May sighed. "I'd love to stare at that moon some night. Come on, Teresa, I really want to have a look at Johnny Madrid. It's not fair that you keep him all to yourself."

Teresa raised an eyebrow. "A queek peek maybe." Her mouth wouldn't quite work right. "Just for a minute. We are best friends after all."

Both girls hung on to each other as they walked unsteadily toward the door. Anna May grabbed the bottle of sherry and held it up for Teresa to see. "Maybe Johnny would like some too."

That had them both giggling again.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Ten

Teresa pressed her shoulder to the wall as she made her way down the hall. There was a strange buzzing noise inside her head and everything either moved in slow motion or spun dizzily around her. She reached the door and pushed it open, holding onto the doorjamb to keep from unceremoniously falling into the room, praying the top hinge wouldn't squeak. As far back as she could remember, she'd heard the door protesting when Murdoch visited the room late at night. Daddy had said he was just reliving old memories, talking to ghosts from the past. She always thought that was an odd thing to say. But now that two of those ghosts had returned, she understood. And one in this very room. The thought titillated her like the romance novels and the forbidden penny dreadfuls she and Anna May read in secret.

A rush of warm air spilled out of the room, stuffy with the unmistakable smell of illness, yet filled with the heady scent of the man lying in bed. Johnny Madrid. Even the name conjured up images of a dashing gunslinger, as dangerous as he was handsome.

The lamp on the nightstand cast a pool of soft shadows across his face and nearly bare chest. The fresh white bandages Sam had wrapped around his chest only accentuated his tan skin. She felt warmth flush her face when she remembered her fingers tangling in the dark curls of his chest hair. The room suddenly swayed beneath her feet and she had to use both hands to steady herself.

A breeze fluttered the curtains, and the memory of her underhandedness this afternoon brought a tinge of regret with it. She really didn't think he would try to get out of bed. Now he lay propped against a mound of pillows, his thick black eyelashes crescent moons resting upon his cheeks as he slept. Had she never noticed how full his lips were, how they called to her to taste their sweetness? How his hand crushed the sheet lying across his waist, how those long tan fingers would feel caressing her? She felt things happening to her body that she had never felt. Even the stolen kisses behind the schoolhouse with Jason Black didn't make her feel like this. She ached with a need she had never felt before, and as if her mind and body were not hers to control she swayed unsteadily into the room, reaching a hand out for the bed. She wished now that she could have had a nightgown and robe like Anna May's. That Johnny would awaken and see her here, his eyes smiling with the same need she felt. A million butterflies danced in her stomach, reaching down to tingle in places she knew were forbidden.

She watched him breathing in and out, wondering if he was dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming of her. Even in sleep could he smell the delicate scent of her new perfume? Would he always think of her when he smelled mimosa? She truly felt sorry for this afternoon. Sometimes her anger just got the better of her. Maybe she would let him stay here at Lancer with her. He could learn to take orders from a woman if he loved her enough. He was so handsome. She wanted so much to touch him. Perhaps Anna May's idea to seduce him would work after all. He would do anything for the women he loved. She could envision him standing beneath a trellis of white roses waiting for her as she walked down a carpet of soft green moss, Murdoch at her arm as he gave her away. It was so beautiful she could cry.

Scott would travel back from Boston to be Johnny's best man and Anna May would be her maid of honor… Anna May. She had forgotten about her friend. Teresa turned back unsteadily as Anna May slowly tiptoed across the room, swaying her hips, letting her robe slip open to reveal her pink silk nightgown. She misjudged the distance to the bed and her knee hit the mattress. Grabbing for the footboard, the bottle of sherry clinked against the iron rails.

Teresa eyed the nearly empty bottle. Had they drank that much?

"Johnny Ma…drid," Anna May slurred, "he's beautiful."

"Quiet!" Teresa hissed. This was really a bad idea. What was she thinking when she'd said yes? She was not just introducing Johnny to her best friend, she was showing him off like a wounded animal she had found and nursed back to health. She knew it was wrong, in every fiber of her being she knew it was wrong. But she couldn't stop now. She was too proud not to show him off. "Keep your voice down, you'll wake him."

"No I won't." Anna May edged her way around the bed, her open robe falling off one shoulder. A surge of anger, or was it jealousy, rose inside Teresa. Johnny was hers. Anna May could have Scott, they got along so well at dinner talking about Boston and putting on airs. They were made for each other.

Anna May looked up and winked as she walked her fingers up the sheet toward Johnny's waist.

"Anna May, no!" Teresa panicked, stumbling over her own feet trying to rush around the bed in time to stop her. She grabbed for Anna May's hand and lost her balance landing on the bed sprawling across Johnny's legs.

Oh no…Oh no…This couldn't be happening. Anna May's hand wavered in front of her, clutching the sheet, the lamplight catching the look of mad delight on her face.

"You girls done gawkin'?"

Teresa's heart slammed up into her throat, taking her breath away. Anna May's hand froze.

"Johnny…" She watched in horror as his eyes slowly opened. She felt dizzy. She felt trapped. If only the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"We didn' mean to wake you," Anna May whispered loud enough to wake the dead.

"A herd of buffalo would've been quieter," Johnny growled, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back oh his hand. "I heard you all the way downstairs."

He heard them all this time? Anger surged through her. How could she have had a good thought about him, never mind what was going through her head a minute ago.

"How dare you," Teresa spat. "How dare you pretend to be asleep!"

"I didn't invite you, did I?"

She'd forgotten how much she hated that drawl. How much she hated him. Even with his black hair tousled against the white pillowcase, even with those sleepy blue eyes looking at her. She hated him even more because he made her stomach flip flop.

"I don't need an invitation in my own house."

Johnny raised an eyebrow and Teresa felt her temper flare beyond her control. She made to stand up but the room spun again and she landed on his legs for a second time.

"Easy honey, you'll hurt yourself."

"Shut up! You have no right to be here."

"I don't? Well I got news for you. As soon as your doctor friend lets me out of this bed, I'll be putting my name to the new deed. Lancer will be a third mine," he said smugly.

"Over my dead body."

Johnny's eyes crinkled into a grin. "Remember who you're talking to, darlin'."

"I know who I'm talking to. Johnny Madrid, gunslinger, killer. How many men did you kill? How many women did you plunder?"

"Plunder?" Johnny's eyes danced in the lamplight. "You've been reading too many of those Madrid books. I don't plunder. Every woman who comes to my bed does it with a smile on her face."

"You have a filthy mind and a filthy mouth. Get out. You don't belong here."

"Honey, this was my room long before you were an itch in your daddy's pants."

"You…you are a horrible vulgar man!" She punched his stomach as hard as she could and had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt. He deserved it. He was just so arrogant. She thought about smashing the sherry bottle over the top of his head, but how would she explain that to Murdoch?

"Teresa, keep your voice down. You'll wake the whole house." Anna May looked down at Johnny, her body swaying precariously close to falling onto the bed. "Mr. Ma…drid," she said, "we're just making sure you didn't need anything before we went to bed. And…we brought this in case you were thirsty." She lifted the nearly empty bottle of sherry to show Johnny. "We got a little tipsy." She giggled.

Johnny looked at the bottle and began chuckling. "Never would a guessed." He reached out and snatched the bottle from Anna May's hand, turning it slowly until he could read the label in the soft light from the lamp.

"I once did a job for a rancher, a real rich son of a…anyway, he bought this for his wife. Said it was the best money could buy." Johnny took a taste and grimaced. "I'd take rotgut over this any day."

"No one offered you any." Teresa tried to snatch the bottle but missed. "Anna May and I were…"

"Anna May." Johnny seemed to taste the name on his tongue as he swept his eyes from her face to her overly exposed cleavage. "You gonna introduce us?"

"Anna May Dixon." Anna May tried to curtsy but her knees wobbled and she had to grab onto the sheets to keep from falling. "And I know who you are…You're the famous Johnny Madrid. Teresa's told me all about you."

Johnny raised an inquisitive eyebrow toward Teresa. "She did?"

Teresa felt her face redden.

Anna May leaned over the bed and whispered loudly in Johnny's ear, "I want to see the moon tonight."

Johnny's eyes suddenly turned dark.

"Little tiny moon," Anna May giggled, reaching for the sheet.

Johnny grabbed Anna May's wrist. "Get out." His voice sounded so harsh, so cruel, and Teresa was suddenly very afraid. She knew she was seeing Johnny Madrid. He pushed Anna May away from the bed and she staggered back against the wall.

Furious, Teresa raised her arm to slap Johnny across the face, but he caught her wrist and squeezed until she cried out in pain.

"You get out of here and take your puta friend with you."

The door flew open and Scott stood in the doorway, the dim light from the hallway casting him in deep shadows. It took a moment for Teresa to realize that he was only wearing his pants. His eyes locked on Johnny's hand squeezing her wrist. "What's going on in here?" he demanded in a sharp whisper.

Teresa yanked her hand free. Even in the faint lamplight she could see the red marks around her wrist. She would have a nasty bruise by morning.

"I asked what's going on here?"

Anna May tried to push herself away from the wall but slid to the floor instead.

"Well?" Scott demanded again, crossing the room and pulling Anna May to her feet but she was as limp as a rag doll. "You can explain it in the morning," he said as he slung her over his shoulder. "Now you get to your own room."

Teresa was mortified. What would Murdoch say if Scott or Johnny told him? She looked down at Johnny and knew she had never hated anyone as much as she hated him right now.

"You'll pay for this," she promised and staggered over to the door. With as much force as she could, she slammed the door against her cheek. She could feel the warm trickle of blood from a cut on her upper lip. "You'll pay for this."

Teresa took her time getting ready to go downstairs. It was already late in the morning, but Murdoch had said she could sleep in. And she had needed it. Her head hurt from the sherry, but not as much as her cheek and lip did from the door. A colorful bruise had formed overnight, and a scab crusted the corner of her lip. She couldn't help but laugh as she looked at herself in the mirror. It had been worth the pain. Johnny would be out of here before the day was done.

Opening the top drawer of her dresser she pushed aside her carefully folded jeans to check on the bottle of sherry. The sight of it made her sick to her stomach. But it had been worth the risk sneaking back into Johnny's room last night to retrieve the bottle. Now it was just her word against Johnny and Scott's. And who would Murdoch believe? Two strangers or the girl he had helped raise?

Now the trick was to get to Anna May and tell her of her plan. It was all just falling into place so easily. She carefully opened her door and checked the hallway. Johnny's door was ajar. She would have loved to go in and show him her bruises, let him worry about what was about to happen, but she needed to get to Anna May first. Heading down the outside stairs she hoped she could get to her friend's room without being seen.

Luck was with her as she opened the front door and rushed down the hall to the guest room. She knocked as loudly she dared and the door opened. Anna May looked terrible. About as terrible as she felt. She pushed her way into the room and closed the door behind her.

"My God, what happened to your face?"

"Johnny."

"What? Johnny wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't he?" Teresa looked at herself in the mirror hanging on the wall behind the washbasin. This side of the house got the morning sun, making it much brighter than her room. Her face looked even worse here in this light. "I brought you upstairs," she said, playing with her hair, seeing how best to frame her beaten face, "to show you something in my room and we heard Johnny moaning. We had to check to see if he was alright. Then…"

"I don't remember…."

"Because nothing happened. Except the door I accidentally walked into on purpose. But Murdoch won't know that. By this afternoon Johnny Madrid will be gone."

"Teresa O'Brien, I never knew you had it in you."

"Lancer is mine. I'll do anything to keep it. Now hurry up and get dressed. I hope Murdoch is still here."

Anna May reached out and touched Teresa's shoulder. "Everything's kind of a blur…did I get to see the moon?"

"Don't you ever say that again," Teresa snapped. "If Murdoch heard you he'd know what we were doing in Johnny's room."

Anna May wrapped her robe around herself and huffed, "I'd never say it in front of Mr. Lancer. Or Scott. What do you take me for?"

Teresa didn't answer. She really didn't know Anna May. Last night was embarrassing to say the least. She'd been just as drunk as Anna May but she didn't stagger around the room half dressed. She hadn't…Teresa felt her face flush. The things that were in her mind… What had she thinking? Yet even now, she could feel her stomach tingling at the memory, and her hatred for Johnny ratcheted up another notch.

"Scott brought you here. It was after he left that Johnny tried to attack me."

Anna May sat down on the bed, stunned. "Scott brought me to my room?" She looked down at the open robe. "He put me to bed?"

"He wouldn't drop you on the floor, though you wouldn't have known the difference."

"Most men would have taken advantage…do you think?"

"As mad as he was last night you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh I'm not worried. I'm just disappointed."

Again Teresa had to ask herself how this woman could be her best friend. "Forget about last night and get dressed. I can't wait to see Murdoch's reaction."

Teresa walked into the great room hoping to see Murdoch sitting behind his desk. He was, but to her dismay, he was talking softly to Scott who sat in a chair facing the desk, his back to them. What had he told his father about last night? Would he be the gentleman Anna May thought he was and say nothing?

Teresa made a quick turn toward the front door pulling Anna May with her. She wasn't ready to set her plan into action with Scott in the room. He could ruin everything. With any luck Scott would be gone soon.

"Where are you girls going?" Murdoch called. His voice sounded normal. It appeared that Scott was not only a gentleman but also not a tattletale.

Teresa turned the bruised side of her face away from the men. "Just getting some fresh air. It's a beautiful morning."

Murdoch chuckled. "It was morning hours ago. I made breakfast like I promised and it's in the heating oven. The least you girls could do is eat. It may be a long time before you find me in the kitchen again."

Now what was she going to do? "Thank you, Murdoch, but we aren't hungry right now. We'll eat later."

"Feeling a little under the weather this morning?" Scott chuckled, still with his back to them. He wouldn't be having fun in a few minutes.

"Even more reason to have a hearty breakfast." Murdoch stood up and started walking toward the kitchen, motioning them to follow. "I will even serve you. But I'll leave the dishes to you if you don't mind."

Teresa's heart was in her throat. She thought this was going to be so easy. It would have been if Scott wasn't sitting there.

"Come on, ladies, you will just have enough time to eat breakfast before you start making lunch. And if I know Sam as well as I think I do, he'll be her just in time to…Teresa, what happened to your face?"

Anna May pulled her into a tight embrace and looked icily toward Murdoch. "Mr. Lancer, I know he is your son but…"

"What are you talking about?" Murdoch demanded, walking across the room to turn Teresa around to face him.

"Murdoch, please," Teresa sobbed. "He didn't mean it. He's been so sick and…"

Scott was standing at Murdoch's side now, a look of disbelief on his face.

"What happened?" Murdoch demanded again, his huge arms around her shoulders. It always amazed her that he could be so gentle, yet Teresa could feel the anger pulsing in his grip.

"Teresa wanted to show me a book she had been reading and…I know we shouldn't have gone in, but Johnny was moaning and we thought he might need help…."

"You two were so drunk last night you couldn't read a book if your lives depended on it."

Anna May took a step closer to Scott. "That's a lie. How dare you suggest that we were drunk."

"I have no reason to lie. I had to carry you downstairs last night. You were dead drunk. And Teresa wasn't far behind."

Teresa looked up at Murdoch, tears spilling from her eyes. "I had one glass of sherry at Christmas and hated it. You know I don't drink. It was a terrible idea to go into Johnny's room. But we were concerned…"

"You were sprawled over Johnny's legs and your friend was asleep on the floor."

"That's not true. Murdoch, you have to believe me."

"You were fine when I left to take Anna May to her bedroom."

Murdoch turned on Scott. "Are you saying you left Teresa alone in Johnny's room?"

"I told her to go to bed. Besides, Johnny was in no shape to be any threat to Teresa. Especially after yesterday's ill conceived trip to the window."

"It appears you were wrong," Anna May sniped.

Teresa lowered her head as if she were shamed. "It was a terrible idea to go into Johnny's room. But we were worried that…"

"Yes it was a bad idea. You should have woken me or Scott. But that doesn't concern me now. This does." Murdoch gently pushed her hair back from her face to get a better look at the bruising. From the corner of her eye she could see Scott's piercing eyes. "What happened, Teresa, and tell me the truth."

Teresa made a show of gulping back the tears. "We went in to see if Johnny needed anything and when I reached over to check his head for fever he grabbed my arm." She drew back her sleeve to show the bruising on her wrist. "That's when Scott came in. He was mad because Anna May was only wearing her nightgown and robe. But we'd just come upstairs to get my book. When Scott left to take Anna May back to her room…"

Anna May put her arm around Teresa's shoulders. "It's all right, honey. Tell Mr. Lancer exactly what happened."

"I can't. It's too awful. The things he said…they were so crude. I wanted to scream for help but I was afraid he would hurt me….or worse. Then he hit me."

"You were so drunk you probably walked into the door," Scott said.

Teresa turned on him. "If I was so drunk where did I get the sherry? Look in the liquor cabinet, look to see if there is any sherry missing."

Scott glowered at her and then walked across the room to the liquor cabinet. He drew out an almost full bottle of sherry. He was playing right into her hands and making a fool of himself, opening the door for Murdoch to kick Johnny right out of the house.

"They were drunk," Scott insisted as he put the sherry bottle back. "Miss Dixon probably brought the bottle with her."

Anna May snorted daintily and Teresa fought to hide her smile. "Please, Scott, I am not in the habit of carrying a bottle of sherry in my valise."

Teresa looked up at Murdoch. She could see the vein at his temple pulsing. It was a sure sign that he was about to explode. She just needed to add a bit more fuel to the fire.

"After Scott left the room Johnny…he said he really wanted my punta friend, but I'd do."

Teresa couldn't remember ever seeing Murdoch quite that mad. "I want that son of a bitch out of my house today!"

Teresa grabbed Murdoch's arm. "No. He's still too sick. It was wrong of me to be in his room…"

"Don't try to protect him. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him that he was no good. How could I have thought I could bring a monster like that into my house and expect him to behave like a civilized man? Scott, tell Cipriano to get the buckboard ready to take Johnny into town."

"He can't handle a trip like that," Scott protested.

"I don't give a damn what he can't handle. I won't have him under my roof. And you can go with him if you can't obey orders!"

Teresa couldn't believe how brilliantly her plan was working. If she played her cards right she might be able to get rid of both of them in the same day.

Murdoch headed for the stairs and Teresa started after him but Scott grabbed her arm. "I know what you're doing. I won't let you get away with it."

She snapped her arm back. "We'll see." She grinned and raced after Murdoch.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Through The eyes of Teresa O'Brien

Chapter Eleven

Victory was a fingertip away. Up one flight of stairs in a room that should have remained vacant. Johnny, especially Johnny, had come so close to ruining everything for her. But he wouldn't win. She wouldn't let him. A smile dimpled her swollen discolored cheek. Everyone mistakenly thought that Murdoch Lancer controlled the reins of the most powerful ranch in the San Joaquin Valley. But today she would prove that she could bend even the great Murdoch to her will. Teresa O'Brien would have what she wanted. What she deserved.

Her foot hadn't touched the first step before Scott barreled past her nearly knocking her over. She wanted to reach Johnny's room first, wanted to see her plan in action. It had been an inspired idea, if not painful. But it was worth it. She pounded up the stairs, ignoring Anna May's pleas for her to slow down.

Her face throbbed with each step, but Daddy always said if it wasn't worth fighting for, it wasn't worth having.

She reached the landing and the sound of Murdoch's voice thundered down the hallway like a freight train. "You god damn son of a bitch!" Teresa couldn't ever remember seeing Murdoch filled with such fury. She could still feel his trembling hand on her chin, see the confusion and shock in his eyes at the sight of her bruised face.

Teresa reached the doorway and stepped inside. She could feel Murdoch's anger as he stood over Johnny's bed as if it were a living, breathing thing. It crowded the room, sucked up all the air. Teresa felt light headed. This was her doing, her creation. Suddenly she wasn't so sure of her inspired idea.

Johnny looked startled, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He looked so vulnerable lying there, his black hair contrasting against the white of the pillowcases and the miles of bandaging wrapped around his chest and Murdoch hovering over him. But the look didn't last long. A shiver went down Teresa's spine as she saw Johnny gather his wits and his soft blue eyes turned cold.

"Why, Johnny?" Murdoch growled. "Why?"

Scott stood on the opposite side of the bed, looking from Johnny to Murdoch then to her, accusation written on his face.

Teresa heard anger and loss in Murdoch's voice. "This was your chance, Johnny. You could have turned your life around. You could have turned your back on the past, made something good of yourself. But this," he pointed toward her and Teresa felt the heat rise on her bruised face. "How could you do this? How could you do this under my roof?"

Johnny grunted as he struggled to push himself higher onto the pillows. Murdoch reached a hand out to help.

"Keep your hands off me, old man," Johnny warned.

Murdoch drew his hand back slowly. "I don't know what to say, Johnny."

"Seems to me that you got it all figured out already," Johnny sighed. "Give me my clothes and I'll be out of here."

"No you won't," Scott said, pulling the sheet higher up over Johnny's chest. "You're not going anywhere, not in your condition…and not under these circumstances."

Murdoch nodded. "We'll wait to see what Sam says. As soon as Johnny is ready to leave Sam can take him into town."

"You can't do that."

"What would you have me do, Scott? Allow the man who attacked my ward, a girl I look upon as my own daughter, to stay under the same roof? He violated the most sacred trust. I can't turn my back on that."

Teresa's heart skipped a beat. Never had Murdoch called her his daughter. Anger at the two men who were trying to put a wedge between her and her Murdoch seared in her throat. She wouldn't let them win.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm only asking that you think for a minute. Johnny isn't strong enough…"

"He was strong enough for that," Murdoch countered, pointing a finger toward her in disgust.

Scott looked at her, imploring her to step forward. But how could she without admitting what she had done? Murdoch would never forgive her. She could lose everything she had taken for granted all these years. She could lose more than just Johnny and Scott's shares, she could lose the ranch. She could lose a father a second time.

"It wasn't his fault," Teresa cried. "I shouldn't…we shouldn't have been in here. Johnny was too sick to know what he was doing."

"It's no excuse," Murdoch said, looking down at Johnny. "As soon as Sam says you are well enough to travel, I want you out of here."

"Murdoch, I know what I saw last night," Scott started, "Teresa and her and Miss Dixon were so drunk they couldn't stand up straight…"

"Stay out of this," Johnny warned. "I can fight my own battles."

"Murdoch, please!" She had to play the innocent. The woman who was attacked but still had the heart to save Murdoch's son. She had to be the daughter he thought she was.

"Go downstairs, both of you," Murdoch ordered. Teresa realized Anna May was standing behind her. It was all Anna May's fault. She brought the sherry; she encouraged her to drink it. She insisted on seeing that damn half moon.

Johnny threw his sheet off revealing only a pair of cutoff long johns and Teresa felt that tingling where no decent girl should. How could he make her feel like this, even now in the midst of all that was happening? He was so dangerous in so many ways.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned with the effort, his left arm still in the sling and his right hand clutching the mattress to keep from toppling forward. He seemed worse this morning, weaker, paler. He turned to look at her and her hand involuntarily went to her cheek.

"Johnny." Scott hurried around to the other side of the bed. "Don't be a fool. Don't let her push you out of your own home."

"Scott, enough," Murdoch warned. "This has been Teresa's home all her life. I will not sacrifice her happiness for two strangers, even if they do carry my blood. I had hoped we could make this work. That you and Johnny could forget the past and make a new start here." He looked down at Johnny. "I guess I was just fooling myself."

"You're more of a fool than you think, old man," Johnny said, and yanked the sling over his head. He struggled to his feet and tried to push past Murdoch, but Murdoch grabbed his arm.

"Don't you understand, I offered you a way out… a new life."

Johnny whipped his arm free of Murdoch's grasp and suddenly pressed his right hand against his stomach. For the first time Teresa saw the deep bruising on his stomach and the memory of her punching him nearly rocked her off her feet. How could one punch do so much damage?

"I don't want anything from you," Johnny said through clenched teeth. "I got my listenin' money, that's all I ever came for."

The words hurt. Teresa could see it in Murdoch's face, in the vein pulsing above his temple.

"What in the blazes is going on here?"

Teresa jumped. She hadn't heard Sam walk up the stairs. She whirled around, tears of fear and anger welling in her eyes.

"Sam, oh, Sam, stop him, please! Johnny wants to leave."

"Wasn't that the plan?" Scott asked derisively.

"Get back in bed, Johnny," Sam ordered, "I didn't spend all that time sewing you up to have you break those stitches now."

"Sorry, Doc, but I'm notstaying where I'm not wanted. Get my clothes, Scott."

"You'll do no such thing, Scott." Sam pulled away from Teresa's grip and set his medical bag on the bed. "And Johnny, put that sling back on or I will strap your arm to your side so you can't move it at all. Now, will someone please tell me what's going on here?"

Teresa wished she was anywhere but here, wished Johnny and Scott had never stepped foot on Lancer land, wished that Anna May had never brought over that bottle of sherry, wished that Johnny didn't make her knees go weak as she watched him struggle to stay on his feet. It was Johnny's fault. All of it. If he had never come back, if he hadn't taunted her with the threat that he would be part owner she wouldn't have had to smack the door against her face. Oh how she hated him.

Johnny swayed dangerously close to falling. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and he was turning from pale to gray in front of her eyes.

"Sam," Murdoch said, his voice sounding so unlike him. "Johnny assaulted Teresa last night."

"What?" Sam spun around and Teresa saw the astonished look on his face as he saw the bruising for the first time. "My, God, what happened?"

"Johnny attacked her," Murdoch said, his voice no more than a whisper.

Sam looked astounded. "I don't believe it."

"Neither do I," Scott said. "I don't believe Johnny would hit Teresa, even if he had had the strength.

Murdoch shook his head. "I only know what Teresa said, and she would have no reason to lie." 

"Wouldn't she?" Scott looked straight at her. Teresa felt her heart rush up into her throat, making it hard to breathe. Did Scott know the truth? Had Johnny seen what she did last night and told his brother?

Sam rushed over to examine her face. "It's a nasty bruise," he said, "but you were lucky young lady, your cheekbone wasn't fractured. It will be sore for a few days but I don't think there will be any permanent damage."

Anna May's hands were on her elbows, supporting her from the back. "It's all right, Honey, we can cover it with a bit of makeup. I can't believe Mr. Madrid would have the audacity to deny what he did. We all know what kind of man he is. Mother and Father said it was a bad idea to let him stay in the valley."

Teresa just wanted her to shut up. She needed to stay here, to hear what Johnny and Scott said to Sam.

Sam walked back slowly to the bed as he if were thinking hard about something and then drew out a small packet of powder. "That's a good idea, Anna May. Here is a mild sedative, it will allow Teresa to rest better."

"I don't want a sedative." Teresa pulled free of Anna May's grip.

"Do as Sam says," Murdoch urged. "If you would feel more comfortable, you can take one of the guest rooms downstairs."

"No. I'll be fine in my own room." But she made no move toward the door. Instead she watched Sam reach out for Johnny's right hand and feel for his pulse.

"Didn't I tell you to get back into bed, young man?"

Johnny shook his head. "Sorry, Doc, I told you, I don't stay where I'm not wanted. Murdoch doesn't want a gunslinger around his little girl and he calls the tune…" Johnny looked toward Teresa and smiled." But Miss Teresa over there, she pulls the strings."

"How dare you!" Teresa cried.

Murdoch looked toward her. Was there the ghost of uncertainty in his eyes? Yet he turned on Johnny, towering over him like a grizzly bear. "You heard Sam. Get back into that bed."

"You can't make me stay," Johnny growled. "I paid my dues, I helped you get rid of Pardee."

Suddenly Murdoch's shoulders seemed to slump. "Johnny, I sat by your bedside when you were more dead than alive. I listened to your delirious ravings until I thought my heart would explode with the weight of knowing what my son went through. What I and your mother did to you all those years ago. The life we pushed you into. We...I can never undo the hurt. I had hoped that I could give you something to make up for all those years. Give you a home and a family. But what happened last night…Johnny… I love Teresa like my own daughter, I have to believe her."

Teresa felt the room spin at the words. Murdoch believed her. She would never lose her place here at Lancer.

"But…" Murdoch frowned, "I find it hard to believe that you would deliberately attack Teresa, any woman for that matter. Not the man I listened to, not the man I got to know before Pardee's raid."

No! Teresa screamed silently. Johnny means nothing to you. He is like a leech latching onto to you for your blood.

Johnny snorted. "Nice words, Murdoch. But me and Teresa, we are like oil and water. Ain't never gonna mix in company. It's best if I left now before someone really gets hurt."

"You would give up that easily?" Scott asked.

"I pick my fights, Boston. And I walk away from the ones I know I can't win. It's healthier that way."

Teresa couldn't believe it. She was winning. Johnny was willing to walk away. It seemed too good to be true.

Now Scott was looking at her, studying her. She felt a shiver run down her arms. She felt like she was in the middle of a tug of war, and she was the rope that was being tugged.

"That was quite a blow Teresa received last night, wouldn't you say, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Like I said, she was lucky her cheekbone wasn't broken."

"Yes, a vicious blow. And on someone so young and unprepared to protect herself. She was simply checking on Johnny to see that he was comfortable for the night, and for her kindness she is attacked."

Where was he going with this? Teresa felt the room closing in on her. She'd told herself when they first met that Scott might be the more dangerous of the two brothers, but she had let Johnny get under her skin. Had she made a mistake?

"I thought you were on your brother's side," Murdoch said.

"I am. But I'm also on the side of justice. Right, Teresa? You want justice served, don't you?"

She nodded. She couldn't trust what she might say.

"You know what?"He glanced back at Johnny before looking straight into her eyes. "I believe this constitutes assault and battery. I have the right to make a citizen's arrest."

"What?" Teresa asked dumbfounded.

Scott turned back to Johnny. "I am making a citizen's arrest. You are not to leave this room until the circuit judge gets here to hear the case."

"You can't do that," Johnny said in disbelief.

"Yes I can. And I'm sure the good doctor will back me up. Right, Dr. Jenkins?"

Sam nodded. Why are you smiling Teresa wanted to yell. It was the worst thing that could happen. She couldn't allow it. She wouldn't allow it.

"You can't do this," Johnny protested.

"Oh yes I can." Scott grinned. "I'll write up the complaint and have it in the mail tomorrow. The circuit judge should receive it in…how long would you say it would take a letter to reach Sacramento?"

"About a week," Murdoch said. To her horror, Murdoch was actually going along with Scott's plan.

Suddenly, Johnny seemed too overwhelmed and too tired to fight. He slumped back down on the bed. He didn't even fight Murdoch and Scott as they helped him get comfortable.

"Now," Sam said, "if I can have some privacy with my patient, I…" He looked more closely at Johnny's stomach. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

How much damage had she done with that punch last night? Johnny just made her so mad. She hated him. Oh how she hated him.

Sam kept on examining Johnny's abdomen, pushing and prodding, eliciting groans from him when he hit a particularly sore area. "This is a deep bruise," Sam said, "how in the world did you receive an injury like this?"

Johnny closed his eyes and chuckled. "I guess I walked into a door." 

TBC


End file.
